Another High School Musical
by ravenbrenna09
Summary: In the midst of budget cuts that render the drama department with little money, the East High Wildcats welcome back alumni, Troy Bolton, and his daughter, Lucille. With Lucille joining East High, history repeats itself once again.
1. Chapter 1: New

Another High School Musical

…

ACT ONE: JUNIOR YEAR

…

Chapter One: New

Lucille Bolton had lived in California her entire life. She visited the beach on every birthday with her brother and mother. She went on long walks on the boardwalk with her friends. She had been there from her birth. She had been there with ever spill and every time her mom went on longer trip, she had been there in California waiting for her. She felt like she was abandoning her old life in favor of one that she'd didn't even truly want in the first place.

How could she?

Her entire life is in California. No, she thought. Her entire life _was_ in California. Her brother had long since left California and her mother had gone with him. For the past few months, it's been her and her father and her friends. For the past few weeks, just her and her father.

"Hey," her father spoke.

Lucille glanced stole a glance towards her father, who walked into the living room with a cup of coffee in his hand. Her father stood in the doorway to the living room, dressed for the first day of school like she is. His brown hair was styled to spike in the front and his blue eyes were as bright as they were in California. He had dressed in a red button up with a pair of jeans. But, despite that, he seemed more nervous than she felt.

She sat in her grandfather's living room, feet propped up on the coffee table, and ready for the first day of the school semester. Since their arrival the night before, he was dancing around the topic, trying to tell her sorry for dragging her halfway across the country and into a new place that she didn't know.

"It's okay, Dad," she spoke. "I understand." Her father dropped his head and ran his free hand through his brown hair. Then, he stepped closer, stepping around the couch and dropping beside her. She reached out to take the cup of coffee and gingerly took a sip of it. She glanced over at him and looked at the nervousness on his face.

"I know you understand," Troy Bolton spoke. The son of a basketball player and a typical supportive mom, he spent his five college years bouncing between the basketball court and the theater. In his third year, he decided to major in social studies education to follow in his father's footsteps. And now, nearly fifteen years later, he was moving back to his hometown, to teach at his old school, in his father's place after his accident to be around the school where everything changed and he always seemed to be trying to get back to.

Even though he was here, he seemed uneasy.

"But, that doesn't make it any harder for you," he continued, straightening up in his seat. He seemed uncomfortable.

"Dad," Lucille spoke, sitting up. She felt the need to comfort him despite the desperate need in her gut to go back to something familiar. "Besides, we are here for Grandpa. He needs someone to help him after his accident. And, the school called you specifically for his replacement after Grandpa asked." She reached out to touch his knee. "Besides, I have no life back in California."

Troy is quiet. "Yes, you do," he replied. "You just lost someone. You can always go back after you graduate and build a new life." He reached out to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can't think of anyone hurting you like that ever again."

"It's going to happen, Dad," Lucille reassured. "It's life."

"Life can be brutal," he spoke. "Promise me that you'll tell me if things get that bad ever again. Do you understand me?"

Lucille nodded, avoiding his gaze in shame. "I won't let anyone hurt me like that ever again." Her stomach twisted the weight of her previous lie heavy on her mind. Her stomach twisted in knots as she stared into the coffee. She would never let anyone hurt her like that again.

Her father's arm around her shoulder and a gentle kiss against her head startled her, causing her to jump beneath his arm. Her father chuckled for a moment and made a joke about startling her, but his voice just came across as fuzziness in her ears. She nodded her head and faked a smile as she sat up to put the cup of coffee on the table.

"Are you ready to go?" her father questioned.

Lucille turned towards him. "Are you?"

Her father's lips pursed together as he thought about it. "As ready as I can be." Then he headed into the kitchen once again. Lucille stood up, flattening out her skirt and then her shirt, buying time until her father returned. She bent down and picked up her backpack, checking to make sure the laces of her boots were tied. "You look beautiful," he informed her, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her out the door.

"Thanks Dad."

…

"There you are,"

Chem teacher, Gabriella Castillo (formerly known as Gabriella Montez) looked up to find her best friend, Sharpay Leverett (formerly Sharpay Evans, Broadway star), in the doorway. The blonde was standing in the doorway, looking over the Chem teacher with an accusing look on her face. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, before crossing over to sit on one of the black desks. "I thought we talked about this Gabriella," Sharpey teased. "Why are you here so early?"

"Phillip had baseball practice and Antonio had band practice," Gabriella responded. "And Raphael has a meeting with Coach Bolton's replacement and his daughter so I ended up needing to take him to school."

"And, Luisa?" Sharpay questioned.

"Your husband has her," Gabriella responded with a smirk. Sharpay nodded her head in understanding, looking out the window. "He's going to take her to the middle school when he takes Tiana. Where have you been?"

Sharpey shrugged her shoulders. "I had a meeting at the Country Club," she responded. When Gabriella gave her a confused look, she continued. "Mom and Fulton needed my input about something. Ever since Dad died, they've been incorporating me into the decision making. They're worried about business." She's quiet for a minute, turning her gaze to the window. "Ryan was always better at business decisions than me."

A pause. "Any news?"

"No," Sharpay huffed. "He's still—"

The door to the classroom opened and Sharpay stopped talking to turn towards the person walking in the door. Gabriella followed her gaze to find a short brunette girl with blue-gray eyes as wide as saucers, realizing she interrupted a conversation between the two teachers. She's dressed in a black skirt with white leggings beneath it. She had a white "Matty Neilson" shirt and an army green jacket over it. "I'm sorry," she spoke, quickly. Gabriella's eyes furrowed in confusion. She seemed almost… familiar. "Principal Castillo suggested that I should start meeting my teachers before school starts."

"It's okay," Gabriella spoke, standing up from her seat and walking towards her. "Do you have Chemistry with me?"

She nodded her head. "Yes," she glanced down at the paper in her hand. "Fourth hour, right before lunch." She paused, looking away. "I think."

"That's good, we're not far from the cafeteria so you can get there quickly. I'm Mrs. Castillo, the Principal's wife," Gabriella responded. Gabriella reached out and shook the girl's hand. It was obvious that she was nervous. "And this is Mrs. Leverett." Sharpay waved from her spot on the desk. "She's our drama teacher."

"Oh," the girl spoke, looking down at her schedule again. Then, she looked back towards the blonde. "I think I have homeroom with you, Mrs. Leverett."

"That's great," Sharpay spoke, hoping down off the table. "So, you are the daughter of the basketball coach replacement?"

"Yes," the girl spoke, suddenly looking nervous. "I am the daughter of Coach Bolton's replacement," she echoed, looking at her schedule once again before glancing between the two of them. "But, I'm also the granddaughter of Coach Bolton." The blonde beside her is quiet, glancing at Gabriella who is just mystified and confused. "My father took the position once Principal Castillo called and offered it to him."

"You're," Gabriella spoke. "You're Troy's daughter?"

"Yes," the girl spoke. She reached out her hand again. "I'm Lucille Bolton."

…

"Dad," Troy pivoted to see a black-haired boy running up to him. There was sweat on his forehead and a baseball backpack on his shoulder. He was dressed in an army green shirt and a pair of jeans along with a hat that seemed to signify his position on the baseball team. He jogged up to the Principal without much of an additional sweat. "Evan and I need to work on a project for American History. Is it okay if I go with him after school today?

Troy glanced towards the principal, who gave his son a look. "And where is Daisy going to be?"

The boy turned red, glancing towards Troy as though appalled his dad would even mention his crush in front of a new, foreign teacher. "Dad!"

"You spent the majority of the time at Evan's house for the entire break," the principal continued with a tone that bordered on teasing. "Why didn't you and Evan do that project while you were over there?" The boy shrugged. "Fine, you can go. Phillip, this is Coach Bolton, the new basketball coach and your new history teacher."

Phillip briefly paled. "Oh, any relation to the previous Coach Bolton?"

Troy nodded. "He's my father. My daughter is around here somewhere but I don't know which way she went. I'm not caught up on the curriculum yet," he spoke with a nod. "But I look forward to having my father help me grade your projects."

Phillip nodded, reaching out his hand. "I'm Phillip Castillo, though my name is probably filed under M section. Technically, it's Phillip Castillo Montez; but, I generally go by Castillo." Troy moved to say something because there's something familiar in the way he stands in talks that makes him think _maybe_. But, there's the sound of heels behind him and Phillip reacts before he can turn around, "Hey Mom, Dad said I can go to Evan's after school, is that okay?"

"Yes, that's fine," the familiar voice spoke. Troy turned. Sure enough, there she was: Gabriella Montez. It had been nearly twenty years since their breakup in their junior year of college. Troy thought back, briefly, on all the tears spilled in that week long process where they both thought _do we really want to do this_ and ended up with deleted numbers and wishful thoughts. She looked different but felt like the same old Gabriella.

She had cut her hair to her shoulders in an angled cut, with the loose curls she always remained replaced with only a slight wave. She wore a floral red top, white denim jeans, and a pair of flats to top it all off. The remains of her high school style still remained. However, she had darker makeup and applied a dark shade of lipstick on her lips. She smiled at Troy before turning her attention to her son.

"Be sure you ask your aunt," Gabriella scolded him.

On instinct, Phillip responded, "Aunt Shar, is that okay?"

Aunt Shar? Sure enough, not far behind Gabriella, stood Sharpay. Last time Troy had heard of her, she was a Broadway star, starring in several productions, before retiring and returning home to Albuquerque. But he didn't think the Broadway star would trade in the spotlight for a teacher's salary. But, here she was. He briefly wondered how that story started. The blonde still had her typical curls and dressy but casual style. But, she seemed to have traded hot pink for a more subtle light pink. She was wearing a pair of denim jeans and an accenting light pink top with a gray jacket over it.

"Yes, Phillip," Sharpay spoke. "That's fine."

Behind Sharpay was Lucille, who simply looked confused. "Dad, why didn't you tell me your old friends were teachers here?"

Troy shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just as surprised as you." He pivoted towards Phillip, who was looking at the group confused. "Phillip, this is my daughter, Lucille Bolton. Lucky, this is Phillip Castillo Montez, the son of Principal Castillo and Mrs. Castillo." The two teenagers shifted through bodies to briefly shake hands with each other.

Gabriella spoke up. "Phillip, Ms. Bolton is in your Chemistry class and your homeroom. Do you mind showing her where her other classes will be?"

"Of course," Phillip spoke, looking at Lucille confused. Lucille seemed to exchange an equally as puzzled look. "What are your other classes?" Lucille handed off her schedule. As Phillip looked over the schedule, Lucille glanced towards her father. There's a silent communication _tell me later_ before Phillip spoke up. Then, the two of them left towards the way that Lucille had come. Troy spotted Phillip look behind him as well.

But the moment the two teenagers turned the corner, Gabriella turned towards the Principal with a sad look in her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, Raphael?" Troy looked towards Sharpey, who returned the glance. Then, Troy understood. Raphael and Gabriella's relationship was built on open communication, telling each other everything. Troy's appointment wasn't something they seemed to have discussed.

"I don't know," Raphael spoke, his voice quiet.

"Troy," Sharpay's voice cut through them. She maneuvered around the couple and looped one of her arm's with Troy's. "You know, there is an excellent bakery right across the street. I'll show you."

"I'm not—" Even years later, Sharpay refused to take no for an answer as she dragged Troy towards the front door and then across the street

...

 **Update: I have changed Sharpey's name.**

 **Hey guys, I have returned with a new and updated version of the first three chapters.** **I hope to bring you guys chapter two soon but school has been kicking my butt lately so I hope you guys stay with me on this one. Next chapter: a bakery & lunchtime & Daisy Pickens & a surprise.  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Reunion

Chapter Two: Reunions

…

"Sharpay," Troy started.

"No," the blonde stated as she dragged the older man across the parking lot, weaving through cars like it was natural. He wondered just how many times she's done this. "I haven't seen you for over twenty years, Troy Bolton, aside from photos on your dad's desk or stories that he tells. But, we have class in twenty minutes and there is one person that you HAVE to see before class starts. All the teachers go here before school. It's practically a tradition."

"Sharpay," Troy interrupted. "I don't even know what the lesson plan is for today."

He was fairly certain she rolled her eyes. "And I'm sure that you'll be fine for five minutes before going to your classroom and throwing it all away anyways to pick up somewhere fresh or spend the entire hour learning about your students," Sharpay responded. "But, before you are able to do that, you need to see the bakery."

She nodded ahead of them, causing Troy to look up and see the bakery that was coming into focus. It had dark brown wood and large glass windows that allowed Troy to see inside the shop at the numerous customers that were piling in. Most of them seemed to be high school students, eagerly grabbing for their first taste of food before lunch in several hours. Despite having a woodsy vibe, the sign above the store had a sign with bright blue letters that read—

"Zeke's Treats?" Troy echoed, looking at the blonde beside him. His voice seemed to betray his emotions, easily allowing the blonde to read them. The last that Troy had heard of Zeke was after his accident, which left him in a state where he was unable to play basketball anymore and had to wear a leg brace for the rest of his life once his leg repaired itself. Troy had been crushed to hear of his old friend's accident and kept up with Jason to hear of his condition. But soon, even Troy lost sight of Zeke's condition, only hearing updates from his father.

But, even his father hadn't mentioned that Zeke had opened a bakery.

Sharpay gave him a small smile. "Been open for a couple months now," she responded. "Zeke finally got enough money to open his own shop after working at the country club as a manager. I tried to tell him that I would help him open the shop but he wouldn't take the money." She shrugged her shoulders. "So I've been slipping a five dollar bill every time I order something into the tip jar. It all goes directly to Shelby's college savings."

"Shelby?" Troy questioned.

"Zeke's daughter," Sharpay filled in. "Sorry, I forget that you aren't connected on any sort of social media." She pulled open the door and ushered him inside. Troy cautiously stepped inside the bakery, looking around at the students who weren't paying them any attention. All the students simply ate their pastries and donuts to their heart's content as they talked with their friends or whoever was across from them. Only a few seconds after Sharpay stepped inside did the door swing open once again.

"Dad," Lucille greeted, beaming at him. Phillip Castillo filed in beside her, making sure the door didn't slam shut. "Phillip saw you guys headed this way so he decided to show me the bakery." She looked around. "Is it always this busy before classes?"

Phillip nodded his head. "Students are given a lot of discounts," he responded, looking around as though he was looking for someone. "I think the owner does it out of the kindness of his heart and all but it brings in a lot of revenue in the early mornings. But it's the best donuts since Krispy Kreme permanently closed down."

Sharpay moved towards the counter, leaning over the white marble to shout into the kitchen but because of the noise of the students around them, Troy couldn't make out what she was saying. He glanced around at several boys who were eyeing Lucille and found himself subconsciously reaching for her hand. Phillip didn't think anything of the gesture but Lucille looked up at him confused and amused.

"Troy Bolton!" a large man came around the corner. It was Zeke Baylor, his former teammate, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old Wildcats shirt. Despite the fact it had been over 20 years, he still looked like the same old Zeke, just older and wiser. And the fact he had a giant, knee brace on his right knee. When he walked, he almost dragged it behind him as though it pained him to move it. However, it didn't slow him down.

"Zeke!" Troy greeted, dropping his daughter's hand to embrace his old friend. It almost felt like it used to be. "It's so good to see you again."

"Yeah," Zeke chuckled. "Things have changed since the last time we've properly hung out." He pointed towards the leg brace before looking around the bakery.

"Yeah," Troy trailed off. "I've had other priorities the past couple of years," he responded, sounding ashamed. And, to an extent, he was. He felt like he didn't know any of his old friends. But Lucille, his son, and his wife had been encompassing his entire life for around 20 years now. He glanced towards Lucille, who gave him a smile that said "I understand what you meant" because of course she did.

Zeke didn't miss the look. "Who's this?" he asked, curious.

"This is my daughter," Troy spoke, reaching out to bring her closer. Lucille stepped closer to him, clinging to his side. "Zeke, this is Lucille. Lucky, this is Zeke Baylor, the best chef in East High history."

Lucille beamed, holding out her hand. "Hello," she spoke.

"Hey!" Zeke beamed. He stepped closer to give her a hug, which Lucille awkwardly tried to return to the best of her abilities. "You need to get back to school soon. If you meet my daughter, tell her hello. She's dating Daniel, Chad's kid," he added. Lucille nodded her head before turning towards her father. Once she wasn't facing Zeke, she allowed her face to portray the confusion that Troy temporarily felt. Both of them knew what happened between Daniel and …

"Mr. Baylor," Phillip spoke up. "Is there a way I can get half a dozen donuts for the road?"

"Of course!" Zeke spoke, moving around the corner. "Troy, do you want one too?" The brunette nodded his head towards Zeke before turning towards Lucille, who stepped towards the counter with Phillip as well. Troy made a mental note to talk to Daniel later, but right now, he needed to focus on his daughter and the upcoming lesson plan for the day.

…

The music room on East High's third floor was vast and huge, reserved for the band to practice their different examinations or (in the fall) marching music. The large room was filled with all types of instruments from drums to guitars to flutes and trumpets and tubas. In the furthest corner was a working piano, which Evan Leverett had long since dubbed his "morning relaxation". He had been coming to the music room every morning since he started at East High and that hasn't stopped in the past three years…though he does have company now.

"Where's he?" Daisy spoke, for the third time in the past fifteen minutes.

Evan Leverett glanced up from his composition to his cousin. The product of a behind-the-scenes photographer and a former Broadway star, Evan leaned towards being more like his father than he did his mother. His blonde hair fell naturally into curls that poked out from his gray beanie. From a young age, he always knew that he was different—add the fact that he liked to kiss boys instead of girls, he always found himself hiding in the shadows even if he had a knack for singing on a stage and dancing.

His cousin stood on the other side of the room by the guitar and symbols. She was a tall brunette with long curls. Today, she had opted to wear a pair of jeans and a simple blue tank top that flowed around her body. It had only been six months that the two cousins knew of each other after his Uncle Ryan distanced himself from his family because… well, it was hard to explain. Now, Daisy Evans-Pierce was living in the Leverett household while Evan's Uncle Ryan… recovered. In the past six months, she had practically become queen of the drama club and manage to form feelings for Evan's best friend.

Not that Phillip Castillo didn't return the feelings and was too awkward to simply come out and say his true feelings.

Evan always found that kissing the target of his affections tended to work in his favor.

"I'm sure he got caught up with something," Evan responded, attempting to figure out what came next in the composition. There was a repetition of the chorus, the change of voices, and then he permanently found himself stuck. He needed to have this done three weeks ago but he keeps finding himself stuck. It's wrong. "I mean, he is the co-captain of the baseball team, on the scholastic decathlon, president of the Chem Club, and apparently being nominated at the president of the Student Council…" He paused, looking at the composition and found himself momentarily side-tracked though his companion didn't seem to notice. "Having a name might help…" he spoke to himself.

 _But what would he name it?_

"Who's she?" Daisy's voice is quiet and soft, so soft that he barely managed to hear it. Evan's eyes flew up concerned, only to find her simply looking out the window. There was a look of pain on her face that caused Evan to instinctively fly off the seat behind the piano, moving to her side to see what she was looking at, before he had even thought about doing it.

Once he was by her side and saw what she saw, he found Phillip Castillo, marching through cars with a half a dozen box of donuts under one arm, and a girl to his left. Evan didn't know the girl (he would find out in homeroom that her name is Lucille Bolton, the granddaughter of Jack Bolton and the daughter of the new teacher) and she didn't look familiar to him. The only thing that he knew was that he didn't know her.

"I don't know," Evan spoke. He tried to put logic to it, to make Daisy feel better. "He's the principal's kid. The new teacher and his daughter was supposed to start today. Maybe Raphael asked Phillip to show her around. He does know the school like the back of his hand." He reached out to touch Daisy's shoulder and saw her barley flinch when he did. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Daisy spoke, as though she tried to apologize for flinching. It was a reflex that she had simply learned. "You're right, she's probably just new."

"Yeah," Evan spoke, looking at her features. "Phillip's just nice like that."

Daisy looked at her shoes. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes," Evan replied, moving towards his things. He placed his composition in his folder before neatly placing it in his backpack. He turned towards her to see that she was still standing by the window. "Plus, I don't think those donuts are for me even if he tries to spin it that way." He glanced over to see her smiling at his comment but didn't comment on the ghosts in her eyes because he knew she didn't like him noticing.

...

After Chemistry class, Lucille followed the swarm of people to the cafeteria, looking around hopelessly at the _three-leveled_ cafeteria that was filled to the brim with tables and students. There were different cliques, each encompassing their own table or in some cases, tables. As Lucille looked around, she spotted Phillip standing in line with a blonde boy who is taller than him. He turned around, spotting her confused and waved at her. Then, his eyebrows furrowed and he pointed behind her.

Then, "BOLTON!"

Two arms encompassed her waist, pulling her off her feet, causing her to squeal as her feet frantically moved to find some sort of solid ground to stand on. She clung on the arms that were holding her as though he would drop her. "Danforth!" she cried, "Put me down." Daniel Danforth, the only person it could possibly be, chuckled in her ear as he dropped her down on her feet. But, he quickly pulled her into a hug before she could even look at him.

"You should've seen me tackle your dad," Daniel chuckled in her ear. "Why didn't any of you tell me that you were coming?"

Lucille chuckled. "It's just me and Dad."

"I know," Daniel spoke, pulling backwards. Lucille beamed up at him. It had been a year since the Danforth family had visited the whole gang of Boltons in California for Christmas. Even her Papa Jack and Nana Alyson were there. Lucille and her brother were the same age as Daniel so as a result, they were all close, practically siblings. It had been the last time they had all been together, walking along the beach, talking about life without feeling the need to look over their shoulder. "Where is your mom and—?"

"London, I think," Lucille interrupted, being aware of the numerous people watching them. Daniel nodded, he understood. There's a shameful look as though he forgot. "Have you gotten taller?" He had. Last year, they had been the same height when Lucille wore boots. Now, he was over a head taller and he was just wearing simple running shoes. His black hair was still as straight as his mother's (his brother had been the one to inherit their father's hair). He wore a pair of jeans and an East High t-shirt.

"Let's get food," Daniel answered, instead. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the line, specifically towards a girl, who was giving her a glare. The woman had dark, almost black hair that curled to her shoulder. She was dressed in a nice shirt and a pair of jeans that curved to her figure along with a cardigan over her shoulders. Daniel didn't seem to notice the glare as he introduced Lucille to Shelby Baylor. "She's practically my little sister," Daniel spoke, beaming at her.

This comment did little to lessen the glare.

The girl didn't stay around for very long because a girl at a table filled with cheerleaders called her over and she kissed Daniel on the lips before moving away. Lucille looked at Daniel, raising an eyebrow in his direction. "Sorry about her," Daniel spoke, turning towards Lucille. "She's got a jealous streak a mile long."

"Is that Shelby Baylor?" she questioned. Daniel gave her a look of confusion and a teasing smile formed on his face. She spoke before he could get the joke out, "I met her dad earlier. He mentioned that his daughter, Shelby, was dating you." She raised an eyebrow. "Did you want to talk about that? Because I have some questions."

Daniel rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "That was a long time ago.."

Lucille gave him a look. "Was it though?"

"Lucille," Daniel pleaded, his voice low in a whisper as though he didn't want to be overheard talking about it. "I don't want to talk about it. It's a complicated situation."

Lucille looked at him. "Is it complicated?" Daniel threw his head backwards. Lucille reached out to touch his arm. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you don't want to talk about it. I won't talk about it anymore." She added, "Here."

Daniel gave her a thankful glance and then promptly started beaming. "I'm going to go appease my girlfriend," he spoke. "Be right back." Then, he darted off over to the table of cheerleaders to wrap his arms around Shelby's waist and kiss her cheek. Lucille watched them, noticing how Shelby beamed at the sudden flare of affection. Lucille turned back in line, realizing she might have just cut in line by fulfilling Daniel's spot.

"So, you're Daniel's friend?" a voice behind her spoke.

Lucille whirled around to find a girl standing behind her. The girl had long deep blue hair pulled up in a ponytail on the top of her head, but Lucille could still see the black roots. Her hair had a slight curl to it, but black wisps of hair framed the side of her face. She wore a black dress with a gray and black striped cardigan over it. She wore a pair of gray leggings with black skulls on it and a pair of black boots. She stood out amongst the color of the groups around them.

"Yes," Lucille spoke. "I'm Lucille Bolton."

"Evelyn Lawrence," she introduced. "I'm Daniel's lab partner." She pointed in the direction of Daniel and Shelby, the taller of the two was talking to the cheerleaders friends behind her. The girls giggled. "He's a real ladies man," she joked, rolling her eyes.

Lucille shrugged her shoulders, briefly adjusting her bookbag. "Yeah, I guess," she responded, noting the sarcasm in her companion's voice. "The school is so much to get used to," she spoke, trying to start a conversation with the girl. "So many things going on."

"Yeah," Evelyn spoke. The line inched forward and the two girls went with it. "This school is every stereotypical clique rolled into one," she spoke. "It's only a matter of time before you try to get shoved into one of them, she warned."

Lucille blinked, looking at her. "What do you mean?"

Evelyn pointed towards Daniel and Shelby.

"They are the typical 'power couple'. The captain of the basketball team and the captain of the cheerleading team. They form together to be the jocks." She moved her finger towards Phillip, who walked out of the lunch with the blonde boy she spotted earlier. "Phillip Castillo encompasses the perfect straight A student cliché with numerous activities being baseball, scholastic decathlon, etc., and not a lot of time to do them all. His best friend, Evan Leverett, is the same but from the musical side of things. Evan has a perfect social life and still manages the time to write the musical, numerous compositions, along with Write Club and Film Club."

"Wow," Lucille mumbled, feeling overwhelmed just thinking about everything Evan was in. "That's a lot."

Evelyn nodded her head. "Everyone has their own clique to stay. If you don't belong, you are alone." She looked around. "Both Evan and Phillip do a lot, but their interests tend to overlap to the same thing. Nothing too drastic. Now, me, I'm into pretty much everything. But, I don't fit in one place so I just wander from group to group. Daniel finds me amusing in Chemistry but once we leave the classroom, he's back into his clique and I'm back in my lonely bubble."

"Sounds lonely," Lucille spoke. "Well, you got a friend in me, Evelyn."

"Evie," she spoke, grinning. "My friends call me Evie."

…

Jack Bolton hated hospitals.

He hated them when his son was born. He hated them when his wife got sick. He hated them even more when she passed away. He continued to hate them when his daughter-in-law was hospitalized and put on permanent bedrest while pregnant with his grandchildren. He hated them more when his grandson was briefly in the ICU. And, he especially hated them after his car accident that was caused by his heart attack.

In fact, he hated them even more. Having to ask for help was something that Jack Bolton never liked doing. But, something he learned that he had to do with a broken leg. In fact, he had a nurse coming in every hour (sometimes sooner) to check and make sure that he wasn't having any symptoms of another heart attack. It was daunting because he felt like he couldn't do anything without having a nurse come care for him.

He let out a heavy sigh, watching the third NCIS rerun he had seen today. He didn't know how in the world he could take another week of the same thing before they even thought about discharging them back into his own house.

"Bolton," Alyson Darbus sat in the corner of the room, knitting something with red yarn. His companion had been his coworker at East High before she moved up into the Department of Education to advocate for more funding for the arts. Her former student, Sharpay, had since taken over her position at East High. Despite the years, her style had not changed, though her hair (like Jack's) had more gray than it used to. "You getting frustrated about being in a hospital will not make that time go faster."

"I can try, Darbus," he rebuffed.

In contrast, Jack Bolton was dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. His right leg was propped up on a stack of pillows while the entire left side of his body was stiffer than it had ever been. What he wouldn't give to get up and move around on both feet. He kept his hair short in recent years because of the amount of gray in it. He had cuts on his face from the glass and his left arm was in a sling.

The two of them had once been enemies. Jack's program gained more money than the drama program as a whole and the former hadn't taken too kindly to Ms. Darbus constantly putting his players in detention for practice. While both long since admitted they were wrong, they still had numerous fights over the matter. They were close, but sharing two grandchildren and being bound by their children's marriage made them even closer.

It was a twist of irony: Jack Bolton's son and Alyson Darbus's adopted daughter.

"Have you heard from Troy?" Jack questioned.

Alyson shook her head. "Not since lunch," she spoke. It was already almost 7. Troy and Lucille were supposed to stop by the hospital after dinner. If practice ran late, it made sense. "But, he took over not only your teaching position but also your coaching position," she spoke. "And there is going to be a championship game in three weeks' time."

Jack groaned. "Don't remind me. Of all the times to have a car accident, it had to be three weeks before the biggest game of the year."

Alyson looked up from her knitting to give him a light glare. "Don't start with that, Jack," she spoke quietly. "It isn't your fault. There's no way that you could've stopped it from happening no matter how hard that you tried. Lucille wouldn't want you beating yourself up like this."

"I know," he spoke.

For a minute, they're quiet. Alyson returned to her knitting while Jack continued on watching the reruns of NCIS. And, for a minute, that's all they are. Then, the door swung open. Jack turned, expecting to find another nurse, only to find his granddaughter walking in with a bag of food from Olive Garden in her hand. "Papa!" she cried, running towards him. She placed the food on his tray and leaned down to kiss his cheek, careful with his arm.

Jack beamed at the sight of his granddaughter. "Hi, Lucky. Did you get taller?" His granddaughter grinned before walking around the hospital bed to embrace her grandmother, who stood up to meet her.

"Hi, Nana," Lucille spoke, gripping her grandmother tightly. Alyson grinned as she pulled back from her, playing with Lucille's brown hair.

"How was your first day at East High?" Jack questioned.

Lucille beamed at her grandfather. "Good! I met a couple people and Phillip Castillo showed me around. But, I met Daniel's lab partner at lunch and we exchanged numbers. Her name is Evelyn Lawrence."

"Oh, Evelyn," Jack beamed. "She's real sweet. Pretty much is into everything. If you want to know if a club is good, ask her. She knows." He looked around as Lucille pulled out a meal, handing it to Alyson and then another, placing it on the table in front of them. "You got us food?"

"Of course," Lucille spoke, looking at them in disbelief. "Dad called the nurse's station and asked if you guys had eaten. And, we already got your meal approved, Papa. When they said you hadn't, we went ahead and got food. When we were headed inside, he got a phone call from Mom so he told me to head inside so I could get the food to you before the nurse spoiled the surprise."

Jack laughed, "Well, thank you, Lucky. That means a lot."

"Evening," Troy called, walking into the hospital room. He closed the door behind him before moving over to the food. Jack noticed that he had obviously been sweating even before he shook his dad's hand. "Hi, Dad, how are you doing?" Jack held his son's hand for a little longer before letting him go. Troy walked around to hug Alyson, affectionately calling her mom.

"I'd be better if I was out of this hospital bed," Jack spoke. Lucille opened up a container and began cutting up the entrée inside. Jack looked and realized that it must've been his from the way she was cutting it. "How was practice?"

"It was good," Troy started.

"We were supposed to be out of there at 6," Lucille interrupted. "He told me to meet him outside of his classroom at 6 then we would leave. But, by 6:30, he wasn't there. So, I went down to try and find him and where do I find him? In the gym, playing basketball with the members of the team, directing them around." She looked towards her grandmother, using the knife to point towards her father. "I was starving."

Jack laughed. "Lucille, you know they have a championship game in three weeks."

"I know," Lucille responded, pouting. "But I was starving and he said 6."

"Lucille," Troy responded. "I promise that I didn't mean to go over on time. I promise that tomorrow I will be there at 6."

Lucille stuck out her tongue in response. "I'm not holding you to it."

Jack laughed. Lucille handed her father his food from the bag, no longer holding it hostage. Once his food was all cut up, Lucille placed it on Jack's tray and cautiously rolled the tray to him so it wouldn't tip over. Jack thanked his granddaughter who moved to grab her own food. Jack talked with Troy about the team while Alyson asked Lucille more about the day.

For the first time in a year, the family was back together.

Even if they were missing two people.

* * *

 **Alright, everyone, there was chapter two! I hope you guys liked this chapter and are still waiting on me to keep it updated. I'm sorry for such a late update but school got in the way. You guys know how that goes, right? See you guys next chapter.**

 **Review/Favorite/Follow if you enjoyed! Let me know your feedback.**

 **Kids (because I realize that it may be confusing because so many new characters):**

 **Lucille Bolton - Troy's daughter**

 **Phillip Castillo - Gabriella's son**

 **Evan Leverett - Sharpay's son**

 **Daisy Evans-Pierce - Ryan's daughter**

 **Shelby Baylor - Zeke's daughter**

 **Daniel Danforth - Chad and Taylor's son**


	3. Chapter 3: A Familiar Tune

**Hey, everyone. I'm back! Sorry, it took me so long to get this chapter out to you. I got hit with the finals and then holiday writing blocks. But, I did finally manage to complete this chapter! I hope you guys had a wonderful holiday season with your family/friends/both.**

 **Now, I know there's at least one person who is questioning about Lucille's mother and I promise that her identity will be revealed soon. But, for now, we're getting into the motions of the story. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

 **I do not own any recognizable characters from the High School Musical franchise. All rights go to Disney and their respective corporations/those who have the rights.**

* * *

Chapter Three: A Familiar Tune

* * *

"Duck!"

Lucille glanced up and on instinct, her hands flew up, dropping her binder to catch the basketball in her hands. It stopped, but if it had kept going, it would've hit her and most definitely given her a bruise. She heard the binder hit the wooden floor and breathed in relief when she didn't hear the papers scatter on the floor. She dropped her hands to look at the boys with white and red uniforms and the handful with blue and yellow uniforms. She blinked. "I didn't just walk into a game, did I?"

Daniel laughed, pushing himself through the crowd to walk towards her. "Scrimmage," he spoke, off-handedly. "Championship game is in a couple weeks, you know?"

She passed him the ball, smiling at the fact that he faltered in his step. "Yes, I remember but I didn't know that you had a scrimmage today." She bent down to pick up her binder from the floor, looking over it. She breathed in relief to the fact that there wasn't a tear down the spine. "Besides I needed to speak to my dad."

Daniel nodded his head, shouting over his shoulder. "Coach!" As Lucille heard her father run over, Daniel tossed the basketball over his shoulder and patted a tall boy with a blue uniform on the shoulder. Daniel shouted towards the rest of the players and they all ran from the scene. Except for the boy, who moved towards her.

The boy was taller than Lucille by a full foot. His brown hair was long, pressing against his forehead by a large amount of sweat. He had brown eyes that were dark and full of worry or concern. She couldn't really tell. He was handsome, Lucille noted, with a defined jawline and tanned skin. Like almost all of the basketball players, his muscles were defined and obvious in the uniform he wore. He looked older than Daniel. He might've even been a senior at West High.

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized, quickly seeing her confusion. "I'm the one who hit the ball towards you."

She shook her head at him. "You don't have to apologize. You had no idea I was going to come through that door. Besides, you were just trying to keep it out of the opposing team's hands. I can't fault you for it." He opened his mouth to refute, but she cut him off. "Besides, I have good reflexes _and_ my binder is fine. So, you don't have to apologize."

He blinked down at her, an amused grin ghosting over his features. "You're not going to accept my apology, are you?"

"Nothing to apologize for," she responded. "Or I would."

"I'm still going to apologize."

"Well, I'm not going to accept it," Lucille spoke.

The boy opened his mouth to respond with what she assumed would've been a snarky comment when her father stopped him before he could. "Fulton," her father spoke, looking between the two of them. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's good, Coach," 'Fulton' spoke, quickly. "I was just apologizing for hitting the basketball towards her when she walked in. She's not accepting my apology though."

Her father looked towards her. Lucille shook her head in response. "Yeah," her father spoke. "She tends to do that from time to time. Now, go on, Fulton, I think your coach is wanting to call a meeting." Fulton nodded his head, running off in the direction of the other basketball players with blue and yellow outfits. Her father turned towards her and she glanced up at him. "Good thing I decided to teach you basketball as well. Your mother would've gotten hit in the face."

Lucille laughed. "I have good reflexes."

"Yeah," Troy spoke. "Well, your mother tripped over a…"

"Dad," she cut him off. "I know."

He shook his head. "Right, what's up, Luck? You know that I'm going to have practice pretty much every day until the championship game in a few weeks."

"Yeah," Lucille spoke, looking towards the basketball players, who were huddled together talking until the coach came back. "Well, Evelyn offered to take me home after Write Club and I just wanted to let you know." Her father raised an eyebrow at her. "I know you leave your phone in the office while practice is going. I wanted to make sure before you went searching for me throughout the school without checking your phone."

He laughed. "You know me too well, Luck." He leaned down to press a kiss against her cheek. "I'll see you at home. Do you want Olive Garden for dinner?"

"Sure! My usual!"

"Okay, I'll pick it up after practice is over."

And with that, she left.

…

"Matty! Matty! Matty!"

The crowd chanted his name as he waved, beaming from ear-to-ear. As the lights dimmed down and let him regain the majority of his vision, he moved offstage, turning the microphone in his hand off. He beamed brightly until he was backstage, high fiving the members of the band for another successful show, grinning through the photos for the VIP members and actively talking to each and every one of them. He cared about them, each and every one of them, but that didn't stop the grin from falling the moment the door of his dressing room slammed shut behind him or him flopping on the couch with a heavy groan escaping his lips.

It was late.

He was exhausted.

But, still, he grabbed his phone from the spot on the table and opened up the messages. He had a few from his friends from the fine arts academy he went to through his high school years. He had another from a model who wanted to date him (but he didn't really want to date him) and another from an actress with the same intentions (but, he didn't really want to date her either). And, he scrolled through them all until he found the one that had clovers for the name. He smiled at his own inside joke and typed out the message.

 _How's school treating you_ , he typed out. He sent the message without batting an eye and leaned his head back, propping his feet up on armrest.

Matty Nielsen was in the lap of luxury, but he couldn't help feeling like he didn't belong here. An international pop star, adored by millions (maybe even billions) of fans, thrust into the limelight because of a YouTube video of covers that turned into records. Plus, being the son of a world-famous director and composer helped. The designer jeans on his legs were soft but heavy and way too expensive for his tastes. He only wore a white t-shirt under a blazer and only wore the blazer because of the chill in the air. With a grunt, Matty stood up and moved towards the vanity on the other end of the dressing room, grabbing a makeup wipe to wipe off the makeup he needed to have so the crowd didn't see the bags under his eyes.

With every forceful swipe, more makeup scraped off. Then he grabbed another wipe, then another, until all the makeup was gone. He deposited the wipes into the garbage bin, running his hands through his hair and messing up the hard work that the hairstylist had done before the show had even started. With a sigh, Matty leaned back in the chair, looking at his reflection. There, _now_ he looked like him.

On the other side of the mirror, there was a boy with dark brown hair and blue eyes. There were obvious bags under his eyes that came with sleeping on a plane the night before. He looked tired and exhausted and like he didn't _really_ want to be there. He shrugged off the blazer and whatever he had that was giving him the illusion of looking older was stripped away. Now, without the blazer, he looked like a seventeen-year-old boy, who desperately missed the other half of his family.

The door opened. In the mirror, Matty spotted his mother walking through the door. She spotted him on the seat and gave him a sympathetic glance. The door closed behind her and she quickly walked over, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and planting a kiss against his cheek. Of the two of them, Matty suspected that she wanted to be home the most. And, she could've been. She had turned down offers for several months. She could be home right now with her husband and her daughter, but she was out here on the road with him simply because she didn't want him to be alone.

"You had a wonderful show tonight," she told him.

"Thanks, Mom," he responded.

His mother didn't look like she had bags in her eyes. Hell, she didn't even look _tired_. Her long brown hair fell down her face in her natural curls and bright blue eyes that were obscured by the brown-framed glasses she always wore. Tonight, she wore a long sleeve jacket with a 'Matty Nielsen' t-shirt beneath and a pair of denim jeans. She beamed at him, the kind of smile that reached her entire face and made it glow.

"You remind me so much of your father," she told him, reaching up to play with the strands of her dark hair. She grinned at him. "I especially see it when you perform. I watch you and I'm just like there's-"

She's cut off by the ascension of notes from his phone. He got a text message. His mother walked over to the phone and picked it up. She smiled as she peered down at it, shrugging off her black jacket and depositing it on the couch. Matty saw the curled letters of her tattoo on her left arm as she bent down to pick up the phone. _Playmaker_ , it read.

"Your sister says she's having a good time," her mother spoke, her fingers reaching up to touch the tattoo lovingly.

Matty smiled, though it was mostly forced. He wished he was with her. "That's good." He put his face in his hands and his mother moved to embrace him once again, pressing a kiss against his forehead. Matty spotted the tattoo through his fingers and reached down to touch the black ink on her skin.

…

Lucille felt tired as she moved through the empty halls of East High.

It would be another hour before Evelyn was out of writing club and she'd be able to go home. She felt like walking home, walking always helped her clear her mind, but she hadn't quite memorized the route home yet. And, even if she got lost, she wasn't certain that she'd be able to describe enough of the scenery around her well enough for Evelyn to be able to find her. Well, she could _probably_ find her way home through sheer determination, but she decided not to chance it today.

So, instead, she decided to learn the school a bit more. Every time she came to a room she didn't know, she tried to open the door and, if that didn't work, she peered in the window that was in each of the doors. She found a couple of science classrooms and an English classroom that looked like the teacher was also an art teacher from the way it was decorated like Platform 9 ¾. But, it wasn't until she got to the third floor that she found something that made her eyes widen and grin.

The door opened for her and she stepped inside.

The music room.

The gigantic piano in the middle of the room was untouched. With a grin on her face, she moved over to the piano, not bothering to look at any of the other instruments. She dropped her bag by the stool and slid on it carefully. She pushed up the cover of the keys, making sure it was secure before she placed her fingers against the keys. The melody rang out in the music room, bouncing off the walls until it returned to her. She grinned, sadly. Playing the piano always reminded her of her mother, who was so far away now.

In fact…, she thought. Was this the _same_ piano?

Her fingers touched the keys, finding the melody that she hadn't forgotten. It was a song that her parents used to sing in the quiet moments, that her father sung to her when she was learning how to waltz, and a song that she used to sing to herself before everything else had happened. It wasn't hard for her to remember the melody and it wasn't difficult for her to replicate the melody on the keys in front of her.

Her fingers danced across the piano keys, in time and keeping up with the beat. Her head rocked the beat, her shoulders moved up and down as her fingers flew across the keys. She imagined the lyrics in her head, her feet pressing against the pedals to tune the piano as she went through. She grinned, imagining her father singing the lyrics and trying to coax her exhausted mother into singing with her and imaging when she finally gave in, singing until her father yanked her off the couch to dance to which she would shriek and…

She yearned to have her family whole again.

"How do you know that song?"

Lucille jumped when her newfound companion spoke, slamming her knee against the underside of the piano. She pivoted to find Phillip stepping into the music room, the chemistry textbook in one arm and his backpack on one shoulder. He looked like he had just gotten done with baseball practice from the sweat that was against his forehead. He looked apologetic as he closed the door behind him, depositing the book and his bag by the drum set.

"I'm sorry," he spoke, stepping closer. "I just…" he trailed off, slipping into the seat beside her. "I was at my locker and I heard the melody and my mother used to sing it to me…"

Lucille blinked. "Really?"

He nodded his head and avoided her gaze. "Yeah, back when I was young," he informed her, an embarrassed red tinge forming on his cheeks. "She used to stand me on her toes and waltz me around the living room. She did it with me, with my brother, and even with my sister." He looked at her. "She never told me how she knew the song though."

"I'm pretty sure our parents performed it together," Lucille responded, looking at her legs and rubbing her sweaty palms against them. "Back in high school." He nodded his head as though he understood what she meant. "It's called 'Can I Have This Dance?' which is probably pretty obvious by the lyrics of the chorus," she responded, chuckling. "It was written by, uh, Kelsi Nielsen."

Phillip's eyes widened. "That song was written by Kelsi Nielsen?"

Lucille nodded her head, looking at him with an amused expression. "Yeah, our parents went to high school with her. Didn't you know that?"

"Yeah," he spoke, running a hand through his black hair. "I just didn't realize the song was written by her is all." He chuckled to himself. "Evan idolizes her, you know. He's always been good at music and he wanted to become a composer. He studies her like _a lot_. But, I think directing has always been his calling. He nearly fainted when he found out that she was a director as well."

She figured those comments were to him as well and didn't move to respond back to him.

"I'm sorry to have interrupted you," Phillip spoke, breaking the silence. "You can go back to playing now if you want to. You're really good at playing the piano."

She let out a laugh. "Thank you," she spoke.

"How'd you learn?"

"My mom taught me," she responded, quickly as she turned back to the keys. "I've known for so long that it's second nature, almost like basketball. Even if I wanted to, I can't forget it." And, just like that, she was back to playing the melody. Phillip fell into a state beside her where he simply listened to the soft piano playing, watching her fingers dance across the keys for a bit before he stared at the other end of the wall.

Then, he started singing.

…

"Troy?"

The two basketball teams were taking a break, a mini 'half-time' if you will, and Troy decided that he would duck into his office to see if he got any calls or texts from his wife or son. He didn't, but he messaged them a goodnight text quickly before he needed to get back on the court. As he was about to send the message off to his wife, there was a gentle knock on the door to his office and he looked up to see a brown-haired woman step inside.

For a moment, he blinked, unsure of who it was. "Jocelyn, is that you?" She beamed and he jumped up, running forward to wrap his arms around the woman in question, who wrapped her arms around him. "I haven't seen you in so long. How's Jason?" Jocelyn was his high school friend's, Jason's, younger sister. She was always on the sideline of the high school games and even came to the Winter Musical to cheer Troy on in his first drama performance.

The last that Troy had heard, she was with Zeke Baylor, Jason's best friend.

"He's pretty good," Jocelyn spoke, grinning up at him as he pulled out a chair for her. She quickly sat down it while Troy moved around to his side of the desk. "When Zeke told me that you were Coach Bolton's replacement, I couldn't believe it. Have to admit, I never saw you as a teacher."

Troy laughed. "Yeah, I was undecided for a long time. Longer than I should've been. I came back home for my mom's funeral, you know, and I saw just how many lives my mom affected as a middle school teacher, you know? And, it just kinda hit me there that was what I wanted to be."

Jocelyn smiled, sadly. "She was an amazing woman." Troy nodded his head, looking at his hands and then over at a picture of his mom, which stood on his desk. She was sick by the time the picture was taken, so sick in fact that he was certain that the picture was taken weeks before she actually passed away. But, she sat on the front porch, beaming up at the photo. "Well," Jocelyn spoke, accidentally cutting him from his daze. She moved to grab something from her purse. "As much as I would love to spend the next two hours catching each other up on our lives, I've actually come on a quick personal business."

"Oh yeah?" he questioned.

Jocelyn pulled something from her wallet, an envelope, and handed it over to him. "I know it's pretty much last minute, but," He opened the envelope and peered at the card inside. " _You're invited to the wedding of Ezekiel Baker and Jocelyn Cross. February 14th."_ There was an address beneath the scrawl. In France? "Like, I said, I know it's completely last minute, but it fell on a weekend and I thought that you might be able to swing it since it's after a championship game. I just feel like you should be there, you know?"

She's quiet.

"I mean, if it wasn't for you, I don't think Zeke and I would've ever gotten together."

"I'd love to go," Troy cut her off before she could go into a nervous stumble. "However, I would need to talk to it about with Principal Castillo to make sure it wouldn't interfere. It's the week after the Championship game." Jocelyn beamed. "But, I have a question."

"Anything."

"I don't know if Zeke told you, but my daughter's with me. But, if possible, could I bring my wife and son?" The words slipped out of his mouth before he could think about it.

Before he could backtrack or change his statement, Jocelyn was nodding and speaking a mile a minute, "Of course, you can bring your wife and son. I can't wait to meet the woman that decided to make you an honest man, Troy Bolton." She stood up. "I won't keep you much longer because I know that you have a scrimmage to get back to. I just wanted to see if you could make it." She quickly bent down to give him a hug which he barely managed to return before she was moving out the door. "I've got to get back to the store before my future husband realizes that I'm gone. I hope we get to see you around more."

He's alone for several moments before he let out a string of curse words and quickly revised his message to his wife.

…

Her desk was stacked with papers, from revisions of the musical to more music that Evan wanted to include in the musical or in future musicals along with the quizzes from her drama class. But, all of these needed to wait until tomorrow morning. She needed to go to the hospital and visit Ryan before the visiting hours were over.

As she threw her bag over her shoulder and collected the musical notes into her binder, she made a quick run-through of her children's schedule. Evan was in Write Club then he'd drive home with Phillip, (while, technically not her child) Daisy had already been picked up by her husband, and Tiana had ballet practice with Luisa until she was picked up by Gabriella. Vincent, her eldest, was at college a few hours away and wouldn't be back home until the weekend. At least, with Vincent or Phillip around, Daisy had enough of a distraction to not want to go to the hospital.

Sharpay didn't know how much longer she could handle seeing Daisy watch the unconscious Ryan like that, a tube down his throat and a machine forcing him to stay alive.

Something cut through her thoughts as she passed by the music room: a familiar melody with unfamiliar voices.

" _It's like catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you,"_ the duo sang, their beautiful harmony seeping under the crack of the door in the music room.

Sharpay Leverett remembered the song better than anyone. She had been jealous of it in high school. Kelsi had always written the best music for Troy and Gabriella, and Sharpay had been jealous of Gabriella's relationship with Troy since the day she had transferred to East High. The blonde had tried to manipulate to get the song, but, it had been the one of the first to be cut from the final product because of Sharpay manipulating to get her way. She had loved the song, wished it was sped up a little at the time, but now, she loved it the way it had been written.

And, now, the daughter of Troy Bolton and the son of Gabriella Montez sat in the music room, on the piano seat, singing that _exact_ same song.

Lucille Bolton was playing the piano, her brown curls falling beneath her beanie in waves. She was rocking out, her entire body moving as she played the melody on the piano and sung the song to her heart's content. Beside her, Phillip sat with her, also singing the song. He only sang when the music was up high so the others couldn't hear him sing or under his breath so no one could hear. It was surprising for her to see him, singing in the music room with a nearly complete stranger to a song she didn't even realize he knew.

As she watched them, she furrowed her eyes, gazing at her "adopted" nephew as he sat beside the new girl, the song now over, and the two of them chatting about _something_. He seemed different, she summarized, watching him and trying to figure out what exactly it was that she didn't notice. Then, it hit her like a brick. He was relaxed, not stressed because of some AP final or scholastic decathlon, and he seemed to have been genuinely enjoying himself as he had sung with her.

"You're a good singer," Lucille praised him.

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself."

"Thanks, but you don't need to say that."

As though it made all the sense in the world, without thinking of the possible consequences in both the students' lives and her own personal relationship with them, Sharpay knew what she had to do. She put her hand on the door handle, opening the door with finality and peering at the shocked faces of the two students in front of her.

"Aunt Shar?" he questioned, looking confused.

"Mrs. Leverett?" she responded, looking positively frightened.

She breathed. "Phillip, Lucille, I want you two to audition for the musical."

…

"Lucky!" Troy shouted, walking in the front door with a bag of Olive Garden in one hand. Silence is the only thing that welcomed him home. The alarm was off and Salem's food was filled. So, she had to make it home at some point. He placed the bag of food on the coffee table, petting the black cat who jumped up to meet him.

Troy turned, heading up the stairs. He went to her room, the former guest bedroom, and knocked on the door. When there was no sound, he opened it. But, he was only met with half-unpacked boxes and sheets thrown off the bed. Her bag was dumped on the floor along with the clothes she had worn that day. Her keys were on the nightstand. Worried, the next place he went to was the bathroom but it was empty as well.

Then, he heard the dribble of a basketball and a swoosh of the net.

Confused, Troy headed back downstairs, moving further into the house. Out the windows to the backyard, he spotted his daughter on the basketball court. She was dressed in a pair of denim jeans and a short sleeve shirt. Her brown hair was braided and she was sweating. She must've been at this a while. Troy moved the food into the kitchen, placing it in the fridge (they could always heat it up later), and headed outside. The sound of the back door opening didn't phase Lucille, who easily tossed the ball through the net like it was nothing.

"Hey Dad," she spoke, going to retrieve the basketball.

Troy stopped at the edge of the court as she returned to her original spot. "What's wrong?"

She didn't look at him. "Nothing's wrong."

"Quit lying to me, Lucille," he spoke.

She tossed the basketball towards the net again, but it hit the rim and ricocheted into the wooden fence behind the house. It bounced onto the court again, but Lucille didn't move to pick it up. She just kept looking at her feet and Troy took the opportunity to step onto the court. She avoided his gaze until the point that Troy was right in front of her.

"You always play basketball when something is wrong," he informed her. "So, what's wrong?"

Lucille let out a sob.

The simple sob had effectively sent every single overprotective nerve in Troy's body ablaze. He felt like going to the school and finding out what had happened to make his daughter cry. But, his daughter raised her head to stare at him as she continued to cry. She surged towards him, burying her face into his shirt and wrapping her thin arms around his waist. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, trying to find some way to calm her down at least enough to figure out what was going on, but just settled on returning her hug.

"I don't know what to do, Daddy," she cried. Her words were barely manageable through the tears and he spent twice as long deciphering them as he normally did. "I don't know what to do."

He didn't know what had caused her to break down, and he figured that he might not know until sometime tomorrow, but he placed a kiss against her head and whispered, "We'll figure it out, Lucky." He hoped it would've calmed her a bit, but she continued to sob while Troy simply held her against him.

* * *

 **Alright, that is another end to a chapter of Another High School Musical! I'm still working out how I want the students to be performing their songs because there will be some performances for both of them. So, expect some fiddling around on that when the time comes for that to end up happening. The scenes between Troy and Lucille always seem to come really easily to me. But, I really enjoyed the piece with Kelsi and Matty as well.**

 **What did you guys think? Did you like how Phillip and Lucille ended up singing the song that their parents sang? I hope you enjoyed. And, if you did, let me know by submitting a review or sending a private message. I would love to hear from you guys.**

 **See you next time around!**

 **Next time: Evelyn and Daisy center as they (and those around them) react to the news that Phillip and Lucille are supposedly auditioning for a musical together.**


	4. Chapter 4: Cracks

**HEY, another chapter in a couple days time? Well, I'm trying to get on a more consistent schedule in terms of uploads. I'm trying to do this once a week on Tuesdays, but I start the semester back up next week so we will see how that goes! But, I've also been in a kick with this story as of late so I think that's why I've been writing so many chapters lately. We're finally getting into the meat of the story. Let me know what you think!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **(Also, I've noticed as chapters have gone on, they keep getting longer and longer).**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is recognizable from the original High School Musical franchise.**

* * *

Another High School Musical

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Chapter Four: Cracks

* * *

Evelyn Lawrence had only known Lucille Bolton for two weeks.

But, it felt like the two girls had known each other their entire lives. The two quickly fell into a routine that formed on Lucille's second day. Every school day for those two weeks, they had a routine. Lucille would arrive at school with her dad and would wait for the early morning Write Club meeting to be over. She'd be sitting outside the library door, most likely reading a book that she was into, whenever Evelyn would walk out. The two would head to the cafeteria, get some breakfast, eat on the stairs against the window (because there were never enough seats), and then head off to their first class of the day. They wouldn't have classes together until History, then Chemistry, and finally homeroom at the end of the day. And, then, Evelyn would take Lucille home while her dad finished up practice.

But, today was different.

In all honesty, Evelyn wasn't fully aware of how she knew. But, she did.

The blue-haired junior was eager to get out of the library, but couldn't because of her position as the vice-president of the club. So, for the hour of the event, as the president (a senior by the name of Natalia) talked about the various activities that they had in store for the upcoming month. They spent a few moments journaling, going around the circle to share their paragraph, before opening up for a free session. In a normal situation, Evelyn was always the first to go. In her eagerness to leave, she declined when she was asked, faking that she didn't have anything to write. Once the president called the meeting, Evelyn was out of her seat, pushing the door open to the library and looking around.

Lucille wasn't there.

"Evelyn?" the blue-haired girl turned to find Natalia, stepping out of the library. The black haired senior looked at her worriedly, trying to figure out what got the normally calm and attentive Evelyn on edge. "Is everything okay? You seem distracted."

Evelyn nodded. "I just feel like something's wrong," she admitted. "I know that we normally talk for a bit about the meeting, but I gotta go find my friend and check on her. Message me anything you want to talk about."

Natalia nodded her confirmation, which barely registered in Evelyn's mind before she was leaving the library behind her. Evelyn went to the nearest window that looked over the front parking lot and quickly found Mr. Bolton's car in its normal spot not far from the gym. After spotting his car, she glanced at her phone, hoping to find a message from Lucille saying that she was sick or where she was. But, Evelyn only found a private message from a long distance writing friend and a message from Daniel. She filed them both away for later and took off again.

Her first stop was the cafeteria. Even from the first floor, she could tell that Lucille wasn't in the cafeteria. She wasn't in any of their normal spots. And, the only person she _might've_ been with was Daniel Danforth. But even he too was absent. She spotted Shelby Baylor not far away, surrounded by her cheerleaders. The girl spotted her and quickly moved over to Evelyn's position.

"Have you seen Daniel?" she questioned. "We were supposed to meet to talk about English."

Evelyn rose an eyebrow. "When are you going to admit the truth?" Evelyn questioned.

Shelby blinked at her, surprised at her comment, before crossing her arms over her chest. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at her response which the cheerleader saw and gave her a look that practically screamed _be quiet_. "So, have you seen him or not?"

"No," Evelyn answered, honestly. She looked around, trying to figure out where else Lucille might possibly be. "I'm looking for him. Well, technically, I'm looking for Lucille and he's known her since they were kids. Let him know that I was looking for him if you happen to see him before I find him, okay?" The black haired girl nodded her head and moved back towards the cheerleaders who were giggling like mad once she returned. Evelyn suppressed the eye roll and pulled out her phone again.

Evelyn saw that she had another message from Daniel and opened it quickly. Maybe he had an idea as to where her friend is. Once she saw the contents of the message, she instantly regretted not opening the message sooner.

 _7:45 a.m: I found her on the roof. Bring some food. Don't tell Shelby._

 _7:30 a.m.: Hey, have you seen Lucille? Mr. Bolton says she's here but I haven't found her._

Evelyn fired back a quick message, glancing up to find that Shelby was looking over her shoulder at the blue-haired girl. Evelyn turned around, going into the cafeteria. By nothing short of a minor miracle and wasted five minutes, Evelyn managed to convince the breakfast shift to give her three sets of breakfast burritos. The lady running the cashier gave her a curious expression when she checked out but said nothing of it. Once she was free of the lunch line, she began climbing the stairs towards the roof.

After two flights of stairs up the cafeteria, her thighs were already screaming at her. She almost felt like taking a break, but something was wrong with Lucille. So, she trudged on, climbing one more flight of stairs and having to use a tremendous amount of force on the door to the roof.

The Garden Club always had a field day when it came to this time of the year. They got to retreat their plants into the greenhouses on the roof. But, there were still a handful of plants around the roof in planters. There's at least one planter drilled into the roof that contained a dormant apple tree that would house fruit once it got warmer. But, the roof seemed almost dead in comparison to how it looked in the spring.

Leaning against the greenhouse, Lucille sat, looking over the edge of the roof at the suburban part of the city that had surrounded them. Today, she opted to wear a gray beanie on her head, leaving her curls to splay out from beneath the warm fabric. She wore a beige sweater with a pair of gray leggings tucked into a pair of boots. Her hands wrung together, her knuckles white as she clung to the yellow daffodil in her hand with all of her might. She didn't look up once Evelyn arrived on the roof.

Daniel, who sat at her feet, looked over once the door opened. Like his companion, he too wore a beanie, but he had on a bright red one and had his basketball number stitched on it. He wore an East High Basketball shirt and a pair of denim jeans with sneakers. His jacket was draped over Lucille's shoulders as she leaned against the greenhouse wall. Upon seeing her, he jumped onto his feet and went to meet her after placing his hand against her knees.

"Hey," he spoke, grabbing one of the breakfast burritos from her hand. "Did you run into Shelby?"

"Yeah," she spoke, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think she saw me coming up here, but I don't think she thinks that I'm going to meet you if that's what you're thinking." Daniel nodded his head, glancing towards Lucille. "What's going on? Am I missing something?"

Daniel's head whipped around, so fast that she feared that he could've gotten whiplash. "She didn't tell you?"

"Would I be asking if I knew?" she told him, hitting him in the arm. "I'm sorry. I only met Lucille like two weeks ago. It's not like I'm in a video game and got enough relationship points to unlock the tragic backstory." She glanced towards Lucille. She still wasn't paying attention to the two of them. "So, are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

Daniel snuck a concerned glance towards Lucille over his shoulder. "I don't even know the full details," he spoke. "Her brother, my best friend… he, uh, refused to tell me all the details." He ran his palms along the fabric of his jeans. "But, all I know is that something happened, and I don't know what happened. But, after a certain point, she stopped singing."

Evelyn blinked, still missing something. "I'm sorry I still don't understand. It's okay for someone to stop singing."

Daniel shook his head. "No, not this girl, not her," he hurried. Evelyn didn't speak. "Lucille has been singing for as long as I can remember. She went to the Los Angeles Academy of Dramatic Arts. Some of the best singers in the world come out of there. So, she sang everywhere. She sang with her dad, with her mom, with her brother, with or without music. She had transferred to her father's public school and was doing drama for a bit, but that was her decision. She still sang and she was pretty damn good at it. But, last year, she dropped out of the drama club and didn't sing again."

Evelyn nodded her head, glancing towards Lucille over his shoulder. She gave him a look and stated the obvious, "So, what brought it on again?"

"She got signed up for the musical by Mrs. Leverett," he responded. "I don't know what happened or how it happened. But, I think I have an idea of who to ask and how to get the information." She nodded her head. "Do you mind staying with her? I don't want her to be alone."

Evelyn nodded her head. "Please," she spoke. "Be careful." Daniel nodded his head, patting her shoulder and moving back towards Lucille. The brunette glanced up at him as he took his jacket back off her knees. He patted her knees and she smiled up at him. His feet sounded loudly against the stairs as he thundered down the stairs. Lucille's eyes returned back to the suburban horizon.

Evelyn placed the second of the breakfast burritos on her lap before sitting down on the floor next to her. Lucille didn't smile but placed the daffodil by her feet as she unwrapped her breakfast burrito and took a tentative bite.

"Look," Evelyn spoke, reaching out to touch her knee. "I don't know the full extent of what happened to you. But, whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here, okay? I won't judge you. I promise."

Lucille looked up at her with a watery smile. "When I'm ready to talk about it, I promise I'll tell you."

Evelyn smiled back at her, a weak smile, and Lucille took another bite before leaning her head back against the greenhouse.

…

"What do you think about Lucille Bolton and Phillip Castillo auditioning together?" one of the stagehands spoke to another.

"I think it'll be fun having new members in the drama department," one of the stage directors spoke. Evan turned the page of the script, looking through the notes. He tried to imagine Lucille as the main female character and Phillip as the main male character. He couldn't see it. But, then again, he had never seen Lucille act. Maybe she was good enough to pull it off. "But, it's all up to Mrs. Leverett I suppose. It is in her favor to introduce more members to the drama department."

"How so?"

"More fees, more people to pitch in with the design," the second replied. "With the budget cuts, it's a miracle that we're having production at all! Plus, maybe if more people get into drama, they can bring in their friends and increase the numbers."

Evan let out a heavy sigh as he continued flipping through the script, absorbing all of his mother's notes for him to change. All of the things he agreed with. He just needed a fresh set of eyes to help him in the writing department. Evan had been staring at this script since he first finished the rough draft back in summer at Lava Springs. He had been analyzing it and his mother had as well. The two of them needed a fresh set of eyes with a clean script to jot down their ideas on the script itself.

Good writing can use a fresh pair of eyes.

Evan might've jumped when he felt someone's breath on his ear, but the all-too-familiar voice of Daniel Danforth drifted into his ear as the boy himself flopped down on the empty table chair beside him.

"Evan," he greeted, a playful grin on his face.

Evan was alone. People, both within the drama club or the Write club, knew that Evan didn't like to be disturbed whenever he was engrossed in writing, especially when it came for writing from the musical. As a result, his table on the second-floor section of the cafeteria was completely empty aside from him and his bookbag. Even Daisy had taken to sitting on the stairs and looking quizzingly out the window.

But, obviously, Daniel Danforth didn't get the memo.

"What do you want, Daniel?" he questioned.

"There's something I want to talk to you about," Daniel spoke. "Don't worry, it'll be quick."

"I'm in the middle of something," Evan responded, looking back at his notes.

"Okay then," Daniel spoke. "Can I meet you tomorrow morning then?" Evan glanced up at him in shock, his eyebrows scrunching as he gazed over at the basketball player. "What?" the basketball player spoke innocently. "I really need to talk to you."

"About what?" Evan asked.

Daniel gave him a look. There was a playful look in his eyes. The look made his stomach turn but not in the way it was supposed to. "I just want to know if you know how Lucille got signed up for the musical."

"That's it?" Evan questioned. Daniel shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Well, technically, my mother signed her up," Evan spoke, turning back to his notes. "She overheard Phillip and Lucille singing in the music room. She basically told them that they were auditioning for the musical _together_." He gave Daniel a skeptical look as he looked towards the third floor. "Why? Is something wrong?"

Daniel shook his head and put on a fake smile. "Nope, everything's good. Just never saw Lucille as a singer, you know? She doesn't really sing."

The lie was so flawless that Evan was almost impressed. But, he could still tell. Daniel moved to stand up but Evan reached out to place a hand on his knee. The boy halted, falling back down in his seat as he sent a cautioned glance around. But, Evan knew. No one was looking. No one ever looked at Evan. He was the wallflower and always hid in the darkness of someone else's spotlight and it would continue to be this way. Even with the star at his side.

"You know, I can tell you are lying, right?"

Daniel scoffed at him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Evan." He looked around for a bit and leaned forward. "Thanks for the information." His hand wrapped around Evan's, moving it to Evan's knee and dropping it so his hand hit his thigh. But, as Daniel moved past him, Evan reached out to snag the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him backward.

For the star basketball player, he stumbled as Evan pulled him back. The basketball player looked down at Evan with that playful glint shining in his eyes. "If something is wrong with Lucille, tell me and I'll try to get her out of the audition."

Daniel nodded, removing Evan's fingers from his coat one-by-one until his hand dropped back on the table. "Thanks," he grinned, saluting him as he made his way back towards the stairs. Even though he couldn't see Daniel anymore, he heard the shouts of his girlfriend as she threw herself at him, most likely pressing kisses against his lips and being overly showy of her affections towards him just like she always did.

It was in that moment that Evan remembered why he didn't do writing in the cafeteria and collected his things to move towards his math class.

...

Daisy gripped onto her bright blue pen and tried her best to focus on Mrs. Castillo's lecture.

But, she was failing.

Miserably.

Her miserable concentration was to the point that she didn't even _know_ what in the world Mrs. Castillo was talking about. She felt horrible because Mrs. Castillo was one of her favorite teachers (even though science was never her strong suit) and she hated that she might disappoint the teacher by her not paying attention. She hoped, desperately, that Evan would at least have some clue as to what the lecture was going on about.

She tried to focus on _anything_. Mrs. Castillo's maroon dress looked excellent on her, especially when coupled with her short hair curled. There were five chalkboards around the classroom, but Daisy had noticed that Mrs. Castillo only liked to use the one at the front of the classroom unless she absolutely needed to. In addition, her teacher never used a textbook, only briefly referring to the notes in front of her. Though, Daisy wasn't surprised because she _was_ a genius. The girl couldn't believe that Mrs. Castillo gave up being a lawyer to become a high school science teacher.

 _Damn it_ , she cursed to herself, _you are supposed to be listening to the teacher, not listing facts about her._

Turns out, she began focusing on her words at the wrong time.

"Mr. Castillo, what is the answer to number 3?"

And, _there_ goes whatever minuscule concentration she had managed to wrack up. She had tried with all of her might to focus her concentration on her teacher. But, two rows back and one row to her right, that was where her concentration really was. All wrapped up in the tangled web that was Phillip Castillo.

Like the rest of the classroom, she pivoted toward him. He was blinking up at his mother in surprise and hesitantly asked which question. When his mother repeated the number of the question as well as the page number, he quickly flipped to the page and quickly read through the question. By the time he looked up, he answered the question with a shocking accuracy and his mother simply nodded her head, continuing on with her lecture. While the rest of the classroom returned to Mrs. Castillo, Daisy found her eyes trained still on Phillip.

Immediately following answering the question, Phillip crossed his arms on the desk and rested his chin against his arms. Today, the baseball player was dressed in a black tee with a pair of denim jeans. His hair was rumpled up from practice this morning. He seemed to send out an aura of uncomfortable and annoyed. He chewed on his lip as he looked around the room, seemingly having as much concentration as she did. His brown eyes flickered over towards her. He held her gaze. There was a look in his eyes that she couldn't identify.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Ms. Evans," Mrs. Castillo spoke. Daisy pivoted towards the teacher, fearing that she would ask her a question about today's lecture. However, her teacher gave her a look of pity and decided not to ask her a question. "Please, pay attention." Daisy nodded her head, blushing profusely and bent down to write notes.

However, her concentration was shot multiple times over so she simply resorted to doodling flowers and hearts in the margins of her notebook. She'd _definitely_ have to get the notes from Evan.

A piece of paper slid off of Evan's notebook and managed to tuck itself beneath the corner of her own notebook. It was a small square of paper that was torn from the upper corner of his own notes and his penmanship was scrawled across the page. _Are you okay?_

The answer was no.

She couldn't sleep last night partially because of her recurring nightmares of the accident that brought her to Albuquerque and East High in the first place. Sometimes, if she managed to tire herself out enough, the nightmares wouldn't come. Sometimes, they didn't come at all. But, now, even nine months later, it was still fresh whenever the nightmare decided to worm it's ugly head back into her self-conscious. It terrified her, forced her to wake up shaking and terrified, imagining for a brief moment that she was back in a hospital room with a woman she didn't recognize.

But, she always woke up in her bed at the Leverett's house.

However, something else kept her up last night.

Her aunt had come home later than normal. Daisy and Evan had cooked dinner with Uncle Peyton while Tiana had sat at the bar doing homework. When Aunt Shar had arrived home, her husband moved to kiss her and helped her put the bag containing revisions for the musical in the living room. Evan had jokingly asked where she had been to miss Daisy's rendition of one of the songs in the musicals. Daisy had hit her cousin in the shoulder when Aunt Shar stated the truth. She was at the hospital visiting Daisy's father.

" _Also, Evan, I need you to work with Phillip and Lucille after school. They're auditioning for the musical together."_ She had dropped it so casually that she hadn't expected the blank reaction from Daisy or the loud reaction from Evan. Aunt Shar didn't know what she was unleashing. For the rest of the night, Daisy's homework lay forgotten as her over-active, irrational mind played through every possible combination of events leading up to Phillip Castillo singing with Lucille Bolton. And, then, when she finally did manage to go to sleep, she woke up to the fresh nightmare and couldn't go back to sleep.

"Ms. Bolton."

The class (and Daisy) pivoted towards Lucille, who sat beside her Chemistry partner. But, Daisy realized something was different. Her head was down, her brown curls falling around her face and obscuring the view around her. There was a gray beanie on her head. She had worn a beige sweater with a pair of gray leggings, but the heat of the classroom had caused her to push up the sleeves to her elbows. Her hands were clenched around her red pen to the point that her knuckles were almost white. Concerned, Phillip reached out to touch her arm only for her to jerk away from him, closer to her body.

Suddenly, her chair made a loud sound when it crashed on the floor and Lucille was pushing the back door of the classroom open. The door had barely managed to swing back into its spot before Evelyn was out of her chair as well, shouting her name down the hallway as she ran after her friend. Daisy glanced towards Mrs. Castillo, who had a troubled expression on her face. Then, she wrote over a list of problems on the board for them to do.

Before the teacher left the classroom, she grabbed both Evelyn and Lucille's bags, "I am going to have Mrs. Fields listen in on the class while I am gone. If the entire class becomes too rowdy, this assignment will become a quiz and be worth forty percent of your grade. I will be back as soon as I can. Phillip, go ahead and sit with Daniel." Her son nodded, collecting his stuff and moving two rows up to sit with the Danforth. The latter of the two looked like he was about to bolt outside of the class, too. Phillip glanced towards the door his mother departed out of.

After she left, Daisy couldn't help thinking that she wasn't the only one upset that Phillip Castillo was singing with Lucille Bolton and wondered if the brunette was going to be okay.

...

 _Damn,_ Evelyn thought as she struggled to catch up from the fleeing brunette. _She's quicker than I thought she was._

The blue-haired girl continued her pursuit down the halls of East High until she spotted Lucille duck into the bathroom up ahead. Evelyn increased her run time until she collided with the door of the bathroom, pushing it open so hard it rebounded against the wall. The bathroom looked the same as any other bathroom in the school. The only major difference was the fact that Lucille was huddled in the corner, her sobs overtaking the room and rebounding off the walls.

Without thinking, Evelyn ran to Lucille's side, dropping to the floor too early and sliding along the tile to her side. Her jeans saved her from having scratches on her knees; but, at this moment, the only thing Evelyn could think about was helping her friend.

Lucille was sobbing, struggling to breathe as she curled herself in the tightest ball that she could make so she could occupy the least amount of space possible. Her sobs were overtaking her body, stunting her breathing. She buried her face into her knees and dug her nails into the exposed skin on her forearm so hard that she broke through her skin. Evelyn was by her side in an instant, pulling her nails from where she was breaking the skin and trying to get her to unravel, even a little bit, to help with her breathing.

" _Breathe_ ," Evelyn pressed as she collapsed down in front of her. Evelyn gripped her hands to stop her from continuing to make scratches on her skin. Lucille gripped back on her hands, but didn't look up from her knees "Come on, you gotta breathe." Lucille's head nodded, only barely. "Come on, breathe in, deeply, through your nose." She heard Lucille breathe deeply through her nose, but the brunette soon hiccuped and the spell was broken.

"I can't," Lucille cried.

"No, no, no," Evelyn shushed. "It's okay. Try again. Come on, breathe in deeply through your nose."

Lucille did as told, her sobs still partially continued but they were muffled now.

"There you go. Now, exhale out your mouth."

Evelyn heard the unsteady exhale from Lucille. Her breath waved, showing that she was still overcome with emotion. Evelyn closed her eyes, wishing it was final period. She would ditch Write Club to take her home because obviously school wasn't the best place for her friend at this particular moment.

"Do it again," Evelyn ordered, gripping her hands in encouragement.

Lucille nodded her head, breathing in and exhaling out her mouth. She did it a couple more times before her breath became even and steady. Lucille swallowed before pulling her face from her knees and leaning back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Her cheeks were puffy and tear-stained. The whites of her eyes had turned to a pink color from the number of tears that she had cried.

After waiting a couple moments to make sure that Lucille was okay, Evelyn scrambled to her feet, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser and wet it in the sink. She handed it over to the girl on the floor who gingerly took it.

"You shouldn't have followed me out," Lucille voiced as Evelyn slid down the wall to rejoin her on the floor. The brunette reached up with the paper towel to wipe at her cheeks. "Now, Mrs. Castillo is going to punish both of us for leaving in the middle of her class." Evelyn didn't say anything as Lucille examined the self-inflicted marks on her skin. She sighed heavily, placing the paper towel on the one that was bleeding. Lucille chuckled, though Evelyn wasn't for sure why. "You can say something, you know, Evelyn?"

"I know," Evelyn spoke. "But, I've been in those situations before. I want to be there to help my friends."

Lucille smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was a smile all the same. "Thank you," she spoke, honestly. She reached up towards her neck, pulling at the chain that was barely visible. She pulled out a necklace and looked down at it. It was a simple necklace, with a circular silver pendant. There was a treble clef etched into the metal. Evelyn blinked down at the necklace in confusion. Why did it seem so familiar to her? "When my mother knew that my brother and I were going to be separated for the first time, she bought us these necklaces. She said that the necklaces meant that no matter how far apart we were, we would always be connected."

Evelyn smiled. "That's really sweet."

"We're twins," Lucille spoke. "So, we always did things together. When I decided to transfer out of the drama-focused school and to my dad's public school, we were going to different schools for the first time. It was hard, but we still lived together, you know? But, now…" she trailed off, biting her lip.

"What is it?" Evelyn questioned.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone," she replied. "But, I really want to talk about it."

"You don't have to tell me," Evelyn spoke. "Not if you aren't supposed to talk about it."

Lucille's quiet. "I can't explain it," she spoke, glancing up at her. "But, I feel like I can trust you with it."

Evelyn nodded. "If you still feel that way, tell me later, okay?"

Lucille nodded. With one last long look, she placed the necklace back beneath the fabric of her shirt before looking at the other end of the bathroom. Suddenly, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Castillo walking into the bathroom. There was an amused look on her face that had to have been from the panicked looks that Evelyn and Lucille had at the sight of her. She walked over to the two of them, handing them their backpacks that they left in the classroom.

"Go home," she ordered.

Lucille blinked. "Huh?"

Mrs. Castillo let out a light chuckle as she crouched down in front of them. "Go home, Lucille," she spoke. "I've already talked to the Office and I don't think you are going to benefit from a school day. So, go home, get some rest, and think about the musical, okay?"

Lucille opened her mouth to protest, but quickly shut her mouth and simply nodded.

Mrs. Castillo turned towards Evelyn. "Make sure she gets home okay," she ordered. Evelyn nodded her head, opening her bag and glancing in it. "And, you are allowed to take the rest of the day off as well. I don't believe that Lucille should be alone at the house."

Evelyn wasn't going to leave her alone anyways. But, at least, she wouldn't have another unexcused absence on her attendance record. "Yes, Mrs. Castillo."

"Do all even problems on page 154 and bring it into me first thing tomorrow morning tomorrow morning, understood?"

The girls nodded as Mrs. Castillo stood on her feet. Lucille scrambled up from the bathroom tile and reached out a hand to Evelyn. The blue-haired girl took her hand and was immediately pulled onto her feet. Mrs. Castillo gave them an encouraging smile as they moved to leave. Suddenly, Lucille turned around, her feet squeaking on the tile. "My dad," she started.

Mrs. Castillo shook her head. "I'll tell him. I'm sure he of all people will understand."

Lucille nodded her head. "Thank you, Mrs. Castillo." Lucille turned back towards Evelyn, who had already opened the door into the hallway and had it propped open with her hip. Lucille headed out of the bathroom and Evelyn followed after her, holding open the door for Mrs. Castillo. The teacher followed after them but went back to her classroom while the girls headed for Evelyn's car.

...

Matty was allergic to seafood.

Yet, the stage manager for next week's showings was insisting on ordering seafood for the weekend. There would be numerous amounts of hours spent at the stadium from setting up the band to rehearsals to make sure that the concert goes on perfectly without any mishaps or to prevent possible mishaps. Not even to mention his studies in between practices and rehearsals. So, Matty didn't have time to leave the stadium to get McDonald's or some other restaurant because the stage manager had decided to cater in seafood for the entirety of the week.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you, Matty _cannot_ have seafood. If he has seafood, he can't perform," Kelsi spoke, frustrated. She had never been a confrontational person (except for you know that _one_ time, but even then, she was standing up for someone else). But, after an hour of the same thing, her frustration and anger were seeping into her voice. She was on the verge of calling the record label because they seemed to have more power than she did. One phone call from the record label threatening to shut down the show and she'd get her way.

Her son wasn't going to the hospital on her watch.

"I don't know about you, Ms. Nielsen, but back in my day, people listened to their parents and just ate the food. Kids, these days, ma'am. They'll do anything to get out of it."

She couldn't help the sigh that escaped her lips. "It isn't that he hates seafood. It's because of the fact that if he _does_ eat seafood, his throat swells up to the point that he can't breathe," she spoke, as calmly as possible.

"Ms. Nielsen," he started.

"Change the food or we are going to cancel the shows at your stadium," she spoke, calmly. She had finally snapped. She was tired of this conversation and she was tired of the person on the other end of the phone assuming that she was a pushover mom who let her son have whatever he wanted simply because he was a world pop star.

There was silence on the other end. Then, "Yes, Ms. Nielsen."

"Good," she spoke. Then, she hung up the call, discarding the cellular device on the nearest bed.

"Maybe, I should've done the phone call, Mom," Matty spoke from his bed on the other end of the room. Kelsi pivoted to find her son, resting his head against the pillows and reading something on his phone. She smiled as she watched him, being reminded immensely of her husband. While Matty bared some resemblance to her, no one could deny that he looked like a clone of her husband when they stood side-by-side. Matty inherited his grandfather's dark brown hair, but his eyes were the same bright blue. Even dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, it seemed to drive home the resemblance home. "I could've thrown a temper tantrum and everything."

"And give the paparazzi more fuel that you're an egotistical pop star?" Kelsi questioned.

He grinned at her. "Come on, Mom," he spoke. "You know that the only people I care about already know that I'm the furthest thing from that." He let out a sigh as he cocked his head to the side. "Besides, that stage manager was giving you a hard time."

She rolled her eyes at her son's admission, knowing full well it was true. She turned back towards the schedule in front of her, which contained the press tours and the interview dates. Then, she glanced towards her husband's message from yesterday. She had said that she would've tried to make it work, but she wasn't for sure how she could manage to move things around. How in the world were they going to manage to go to a wedding with their (well, technically, her son's) hectic schedule?

There was a shrill, piercing ring of a phone that threw Kelsi out of her concentration. Within moments, it was picked up and she heard her son's joyous tone as he spoke, "Hey, Danny! How's preparing for the Championship Game? That's coming up soon, right?" There's silence for a few moments as Kelsi wrote down notes for possible rearrangements. "Hey, hey, hey, Danny... you need to slow down and explain. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Kelsi turned towards her son, who was now sitting up in bed. There was a worried expression on his face. All thought of rearranging the schedule was thrown out the window at the sight of her son's face contorting into an expression that was a deep worry and rage. Matty reached up to touch at his necklace which he shared a matching one with his sister. His eyebrows furrowed together. His voice was almost angry when he finally spoke, though she was unsure _who_ he was angry at, "What do you mean something has happened with Lucille?"

* * *

 **OOOOO. Next chapter, we're still going to be dealing with Lucille's aftermath of the whole musical situation and begin to dive into Phillip's afterthought to the musical auditions. I could've made it easy and have them both accept the musical audition, but I think it would've been a repeat of the original story so I like the idea of them "fighting" the possibility of being in the musical, at least for a little bit.**

 **What did you guys think? Let me know with a review (or a private message, if you want to do that) or by hitting that favorite/follow button.**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I hope you guys stick around for the next chapter.**

 **See you next week!**

 **(Hopefully.)**


	5. Chapter 5: Home Movies and Heavy Talks

**Okay, so I didn't get a chance to upload this chapter last week and I greatly apologize. But, I started school back up a few weeks ago so I've been trying to keep up to date with homework assignments and friends and social lives, etc. You know how it goes, right? Anyways, we're back with another chapter and that's awesome.**

 **Now, like the chapter states, there is a bunch of heavy talks in the chapter so be warned. I hope you guys stick around until the very end.**

 **Also, these chapters keep getting longer and longer and I don't really mean them to get so long but I don't think you guys mind?**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any characters recognizable to the High School Musical trilogy franchise.**

* * *

Another High School Musical

* * *

Chapter Five: Home Movies and Heavy Talks

* * *

"Troy!"

The basketball-slash-history teacher jumped at the sound of his coworker's voice, shouting his name. It was only ten minutes since the final bell had rung but the halls were completely empty as though it had been hours. Students had already flooded and abandoned the hallways and were now locked in a hysterical game of "who can squeeze through the gap" traffic in an attempt to escape the school grounds and head home. Only a few students remained, at various afterschool activities (including after school detention) or simply waiting until the traffic slowed.

Troy should've still been on the basketball court with the members of the East High and West High basketball teams (for yet another scrimmage). But, he had requested the assistant coach to take over because he had an important meeting to take care of. And, it was important. For the first time in high school, Troy Bolton was going to confront Sharpay (Evans) Leverett because she had gone too far. Except, this time, it was Troy's daughter who was caught in the crossfire.

"I can't talk right now-"

"It's about Lucille," Gabriella cut him off before he could continue. Troy turned towards her. The black-haired woman crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at him. "I've been looking for you since lunch," she spoke. "I knocked on your door and went down to the locker room to try and find you. I even tracked down my husband, got your number, and texted you. But, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Troy blinked. "You did?"

"Yes," Gabriella spoke. "Where were you?"

"I was in my room," Troy answered, sticking his hands in his pockets. "You must've visited while I was heating up my leftovers… or while I was grading papers. Lucky always complains that I get in my own world when I grade." He turned back to her as she nodded. "So, what happened with Lucille?"

Gabriella deflated. "She had a breakdown in class today."

Troy tensed, exhaling a breath. Then, he dropped his head and ran a hand through his hair, gripping the strands harder than he normally would've of. He linked his fingers together behind his head. _Goddammit,_ he thought. He should've checked his phone. He always kept his phone in the drawer of his desk and didn't pull it out until after the school day was over. "Where is she?" he questioned. He needed to get her home as soon as he could. The team would understand.

"At home," she replied. Troy looked up at her. "I sent her home."

"What? Lucille doesn't drive. And, she doesn't know the area well enough yet to walk home yet especially in an emotional state. What do you mean you sent her home?" Troy snapped. He quickly realized what he did and was thankful that Gabriella didn't seem bothered by his outburst. In fact, she was waiting for him to stop. "I'm sorry," he spoke. "I don't know what got into me."

"You're protective," she stated. "You always have been. I, of all people, should know." Troy let out a light chuckle. "Don't worry about her for right now, I sent Evelyn home with her. After Lucille ran from the classroom, Evelyn chased after her. I talked to the Office before I found them. They let me sent both of them home with an excused absence."

Troy breathed, a weight lifted off his shoulders. _Good. She isn't alone._

"That's good," Troy spoke. "Thank you, Gabriella."

"It's not a problem, Troy," she replied. "She is _my_ student too, you know. And, I care for all my students. Plus, I know from personal experience that being alone after a breakdown is not the best thing for anyone. So, I was going to send Evelyn with her, regardless."

Troy nodded. "Where are you going?"

"Same as you, I suppose," Gabriella responded. She looked past his shoulder and moved to go around him, walking in the direction she was going. Troy walked beside her as the woman crossed her arms again, a serious and determined look crossing her features. "Getting Lucille out of the musical." Troy nodded his head, reaching out to grab the doorknob into Sharpay's room and held open the door for her so she could go by.

…

"And, now, you know," Lucille whispered, playing with the bracelet on her wrist. The minutes counted down on the microwave was the only sound that was going on between the two of them as Lucille heated up some leftover Olive Garden for the both of them. She snuck a glance towards Evelyn, who was leaning against the door frame of the incredibly large kitchen. The blue-haired girl opened her mouth then closed it as though she struggled with the words.

"I don't know why I'm so surprised," Evelyn admitted. "The two of you look alike."

Lucille scoffed as the microwave went off. "I look nothing like my mother."

Evelyn rolled her eyes as Lucille pulled the leftover fettuccine alfredo from the microwave. She swirled around the noodles before placing it back into the microwave for another minute. Lucille leaned against the island as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't know what I'm going to do about this musical audition," Lucille confessed. She glanced over at Evelyn, who opened the door to the fridge and pulled out the Coca-Cola. Lucille grabbed two plastic _Berkley_ cups from the dishwasher and handed them over. Evelyn filled them up with ice before pouring soda into them. "Like, I seriously don't know what I'm going to do."

Evelyn leaned against the counter. "Well, what do you want to do?" she questioned. The microwave went off and Lucille rescued the leftovers from the heat. She placed the pan on the stovetop and distributed the noodles on two different plates. She handed one over to Evelyn, who took the plate eagerly. "I mean, I've never heard you sing. But, I don't see how someone who spent six years at the Los Angeles Academy of the Dramatic Arts and then was the lead in two musical productions at a public school is a bad singer."

Lucille shrugged her shoulders.

"Plus," she added. "I'm sure that you can do anything that you set your eye on. If that's what you really want to do."

Lucille let out a heavy sigh. "I know," the brunette spoke as she swirled the noodles around her fork. "That's what my dad always taught us. But, there's a part of me that's afraid…" she trailed off and Evelyn looked up at her. "There's a part of me that is afraid that Liam is right…"

Before Evelyn could speak, the front door opened. Lucille jumped, glancing at the clock because there was no way that her father could be home _already_. He had another afternoon scrimmage today with the West High Knights before their big game in three weeks' time. But, then there's a woman's voice that drifted into the house. "Lucille, are you home yet?"

"Nana?" Lucille called back. "I'm in the kitchen!"

"Nana?" Evelyn spoke, confused. Lucille turned towards her. Before Lucille even opened her mouth to explain, there was a look of realization on her face as she leaned her head against her hand. "Well, nevermind, I guess that makes sense."

Lucille let out a light laugh as her grandmother walked into the kitchen. Like normal, her grandmother was dressed in clothes that flowed around her. This time it was a blue shirt with an intricate black pattern and a pair of black slacks. Her graying-blonde hair was pinned on the back of her head. She had an orange-and-blue scarf wrapped around her shoulders and beaded bracelets on her wrist. With her, she carried a box.

"Evelyn," her grandmother spoke, spotting the girl at the bar. Evelyn waved at her. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Evelyn spoke, carefully trying to lift a fork of noodles. "I brought Lucille home and I was going to stay with her until her dad came home, Ms. Darbus."

Her grandmother moved to say something before Lucille cut her off, "Nana, she knows." Alyson Darbus turned towards her granddaughter with wide eyes. Then, the woman nodded her head and didn't refute her even after she placed the box on the counter. "What is that?" Lucille questioned.

"I heard about the auditions from your father," her grandmother spoke, patting the box. "While I think that you should do it, I also think that you need to make that decision for yourself. And, I think since you've been in the hospital, you don't know who that is anymore. I brought these to help you."

Lucille blinked. "What are they?" She took the box from her grandmother and peeled at the tape that kept the box shut. Once the box was open, she peered down to a lot of DVDs and a handful of pictures. She pulled out a handful of them to read the descriptions. But, the only thing on the DVDs was her mother's scrawl of different dates.

"These are all home movies that your mother shot in high school and at college," the older woman responded. With a groan and a shaky landing, Evelyn slid off the barstool. She moved over to the box, pulling out some pictures and looking through them. Lucille grabbed the DVD cases and looked through them. "And, some photos. I thought that they might be helpful to help you discover your voice again." Lucille nodded her head, feeling her grandmother's hand on her head before feeling her press a kiss on the top of her head.

"Do you want to watch them with me?" Lucille questioned.

"I'd be happy too," her grandmother spoke.

"Can I watch them too?" Evelyn piped up.

"Of course."

Evelyn nodded her head, smiling at the photos. As Lucille shifted through the DVDs, attempting to find the earliest one, Evelyn looked through a couple of photos. "Look, I think this is you, Lucille," she spoke. The brunette glanced over. Her eyes furrowed. On the photo, there was a woman with short dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, holding a sleeping baby in her arms. She looked sickly and thin. Below, it said _Lucille on the twins' birthday_. She bit her lip. It was hard to tell which of them it was when they were that little.

"No," Ms. Darbus spoke. Lucille turned towards her grandmother. She was leaning against the counter, gripping onto the edge. She reached out and Evelyn gave her the photo. "The baby is her brother," she informed Evelyn. The blue-haired girl nodded her head and listened intently. "The woman in the photo is Lucille's other grandmother and her namesake." The older woman was sad as she said that.

"Nana," Lucille spoke. "You don't have to talk about it. I can tell her."

Ms. Darbus shook her head. "No, it's okay, Lucky," she whispered. The curly haired brunette nodded her head. "Lucille was sick when my daughter and son-in-law found out that they were pregnant. She had cancer, you see, but she had been in remission for a few years. But, when my daughter was in her second trimester, her cancer came back and it was stage four. She only had a few months to live." She glanced at the photo. "She died when the twins were a couple months old."

Evelyn bit her lip. "I'm so sorry," she spoke.

Ms. Darbus nodded. "It hit Jack the hardest," she responded. "But, he had his grandchildren to help him pull through. He started calling them his 'Lucky Charms'." She chuckled. Lucille laughed and Evelyn looked at them with wide eyes.

"Wait," the blue-haired girl spoke, practically grinning from ear-to-ear. " _That's_ where 'Lucky' comes from?"

Ms. Darbus nodded her head, chuckling to herself as she grabbed a handful of photos. "Lucille was born first so she was dubbed Lucky while her brother was given the name Charms. We've called her brother 'Charms' for so long that he's embraced it. Together, they were Jack's lucky charms."

Evelyn crossed her arms, grinning. "I must say, that wasn't what I was expecting." Then, there was a flash of realization in her face. Lucille watched her reach for her phone and unlock it with a serious expression on her face. Then, she stared at it for a long time before she looked up again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Lucille blinked. "Are you okay?"

Evelyn blinked at her as though she had even forgotten that Lucille and her grandmother were even there. "Yeah," Evelyn responded. "I just realized something about my story is all."

"That's good."

…

From the moment the door creaked open, Sharpay was pulled back in high school.

It must've been the fact that Troy and Gabriella walked in side-by-side. It might've been the feeling in the pit of her stomach about the conversation was ahead. Or, it could've been from the fact that the mere sight of them, walking together into her classroom looked _exactly_ like they used to when she did something. If she hadn't just been talking to Peyton about her worries about Ryan and his possible …, well, she might've thought that she was magically transported back to 2007.

"What is it?" Sharpay questioned, moving to stand from her desk. Her room had once been Ms. Darbus's old room. Even after Sharpay added more pink hues and numerous motivational posters plastered on the walls, she kept the stage and simply put her desk on it instead. Even the desks still took on the same formation. There was a part of her that still craved being the center of attention, but her choice to keep the stage stemmed from the fact that she could see everyone's desk when she stood on the stage or sat on her desk. "And, why does it look like the two of you are about to yell at me?"

Gabriella glanced toward Troy. The latter of which was leaning against the desk where his old spot used to be. "Sharpay, we came to talk about getting Lucille out of the musical auditions."

Sharpay blinked as she stepped down from the stage. "Why?"

"Sharpay, she needs to be out of the musical," Troy spoke.

Gabriella turned towards Troy. "She just needs a reason to understand why we need to take her out. I didn't tell her about Lucille's incident either." _Tell me what?_ Sharpay glanced towards her best friend, who locked eyes with her briefly from the corner of her eye. "I didn't want you to hear from the other teachers or other students."

"She needs to be out of the musical."

"Why?" Sharpay questioned.

"Because, she just _needs_ to be, okay?" Troy responded.

"That isn't a good enough answer," Sharpay spoke.

" _Shar."_

"No, Gabriella," Sharpay responded, crossing her arms over her chest and turning towards her best friend. "I want to know why Lucille needs to be out of the musical because I am missing something that the two of you know about. I want to know a good reason why I should take Lucille off the auditions board. I've looked at her record. She's had _years_ of drama and she even attended a school that specifies in the dramatic arts. I would love to have her in the drama club."

"I don't think it's that simple, Shar."

"She can't be in it," Troy spoke, his voice guarded.

"Why?" Sharpay questioned.

"Because she _can't_ ," Troy responded. Sharpay didn't think she had never seen Troy look the way she did now. And, she had known Troy for a _long_ time. His body language was rigid and cold as though he was barely holding himself together. Sharpay knew that she shouldn't push it and there was a part of her that knew that something bigger than the three of them was going on. But, she needed to know, she needed to hear him say it.

She had seen Lucille singing in that music room. The girl moved to the music and had sung to her heart's content. And, she had seen the look on the girl's face. Singing with Phillip had made her _happy_. It was the kind of deliriously happy, the kind of happy that came around when you needed it the most, the kind of happy that came through only when you were _enjoying_ what you were doing. Lucille enjoyed singing. Lucille was singing because she wanted to.

So, why was Troy trying to take her out of it?

"Why?" Sharpay pressed.

And, then, whatever composure Troy Bolton had completely cracked when he shouted, "I don't know!" His voice broke Sharpay's heart and, from the look on her face, Gabriella's too. It was cracked as though he was holding back tears and emotions. His shoulders fell, his entire body hunched over, and he avoided the gaze of the women around him. He didn't apologize for his outburst, but he didn't need to. One of his hands stuck in his pocket while the other reached up, rubbing his face and pinching his eyes closed. When he spoke again, his voice was much softer this time and, if possible, more defeated, "I don't know…"

Sharpay glanced over at Gabriella, who returned her gaze. She didn't know either.

Neither of the other teachers talked or tried to press him for more information, but Troy explained without any prompting, avoiding their gaze as he did so, "About six months ago, we got a call from a hospital about thirty minutes away from our house. Lucille had been admitted to the hospital while at a competition. Something happened to her and no one had any answers. Her brother had gotten there first. He was closer. And, by the time that my wife and I managed to get there, she had clammed up and refused to speak to anyone."

Gabriella covered her mouth. Sharpay had a sinking feeling in the pit her stomach, but she tried not to let it show on her face.

"We tried to figure out what happened, especially after … after she quit the drama club, but she wouldn't tell. She only clammed up further. I always had a feeling that my son knew what happened, but he refused to tell us either. So, after a while, we stopped asking and she started opening up again. And, we want to know how to help her, but we decided to give her the space she needs…" he trailed off.

"And, hope that she'll tell you one day?" Gabriella filled in.

Troy nodded his head, lowering it soon after.

"I'm sure Lucille knows how much you are worried about her," Gabriella started. "She knows that you are worried about her. But, I think you need to talk to her about it."

"Don't."

Gabriella pivoted towards Sharpay. She looked at the blonde with a look of confusion as though she didn't know where she was going. Then, it was as though something clicked in her mind and showed in her eyes, but she kept quiet. Even, Troy glanced up towards Sharpay, a look of confusion on his face as he stared at her. He glanced towards Gabriella, before returning to his gaze towards the blonde drama teacher.

"There's no need to ruin your relationship with your daughter by pushing her to talk about something that she doesn't want to talk about," Sharpay spoke. "I believe I can say that from personal experience."

Troy's eyes searched hers for the answer, glancing at Gabriella who gave him a look.

"Let me talk to her," Sharpay spoke.

"Huh?" Troy spoke.

"Lucille," she elaborated. "Let me talk to Lucille about the musical." Troy moved to open his mouth, but Sharpay raised her hand to stop him before he could interrupt. "No, listen to me," she continued. "When I told her that I wanted her to audition for the musical, she didn't outright refuse me which might've been because she was confused about the scenario. Or, it might be because she's conflicted about the situation. But, if she doesn't want to audition for the musical, I want her to tell me about it. Not her loveable, meaningful, but overprotective father."

Troy nodded his head.

Sharpay stepped closer, grabbing his arm. Troy glanced up to her with a bewildered expression. "I promise," she spoke, trailing off. She gathered her nerves in her stomach and stared at him with a renewed sense of confidence. "I promise that I have learned from my mistakes, Troy. And that I won't force Lucille to do something that she doesn't want to do."

Sharpay did a lot of things in high school that she had come to regret. All of which was to get Troy as her boyfriend. In high school, she had a warped sense of belonging. She thought that because she was the top girl at East High, she should've been with Troy Bolton, who was arguably the top boy at the same time. She was a spoiled girl and she had gotten her rude awakening once she moved to New York City for the first time and she had learned her lesson about trying to force situations when Ryan fell out of her life. And, that was the thing that had changed Sharpay's mindset the most: Ryan leaving.

She wouldn't make that mistake twice.

She won't let Troy make that mistake and lose someone he really cared about.

"Okay," Troy spoke. "I'll tell her. If she wants to be out of the musical, she'll talk to you."

Sharpay nodded her head, dropping her arm and wrapping it around her body as she did so. Troy made a remark about how he needed to get back to the gym and left shortly afterward, the door to the hallway swinging shut behind him. For a minute, the two frenemies-turned-best-friends stood in silence in the classroom where their old homeroom was. Then, Gabriella's hand was on her shoulder and she whispered, "What are thinking about, Shar?"

And, the blonde choked out. "I just don't want him to make the same mistake I did with Ryan."

Gabriella was quiet, wrapping her arms around Sharpay, who instinctively leaned into her best friend's embrace and heard her whisper, "Yeah, I don't either."

…

Phillip Castillo's room wasn't anything special.

His twin sized bed was shoved into a corner, a small nightstand held a handful of pictures. There was one of him and Evan when they were twelve at a swim park. Another picture was of the most recent Thanksgiving at his grandmother's house with all three grandchildren, his mother, and his father. Other than the schedule for the baseball games and a handful of movie posters and the handful of leftover Christmas lights after his window, his room was bare of anything else. His laptop sat on his bed and he had quickly deposited his book bag by the door before he collapsed on the bed, burying his face in the pillows.

"Phillip," his mother spoke.

Phillip's "Go away" was muffled by the sheets.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you because you're trying to suffocate yourself with your sheets."

He turned his head, but only by a fraction so he could repeat, "Go away."

"Come on, Phillip," she remarked. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry," Phillip informed her, flipping over to face her. His mother stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. She was dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and an East High shirt that had holes near the seam. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail on the back of her head. Despite his remark, he spotted the disbelieving look on her face before she even stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "Mom, seriously, I'm fine."

"Phillip," she remarked. She crossed the room and pushed herself up on the bed beside him. He quickly scooted towards the headboard so she would have more room. "I'm your mother and you are my first born. If you think I don't know when you aren't yourself, the only person you are fooling is yourself." She crossed her legs at her knees. "Now, what's wrong? Is this about the musical?"

Phillip glanced up at her. From the knowing but sad look on her face, he knew that she had hit the mark in terms of where he was feeling. He bit his lip and looked towards the window where the last remains of his Christmas lights were strung around the glass.

"I just don't know what to do, Mom," he whispered. "There's a part of me that wants to do the audition for the musical just to try something new. But, Lucille and I were only singing the song that you used to sing me, Antonio, and Luisa. It was just the two of us. Aunt Shar wasn't supposed to hear us. How am I supposed to sing in front of the entire school?"

"I understand," she replied. "I really do." Phillip knew that. He had heard his mother and Aunt Shar reminisce about their years in high school too many times. His mother was a transfer student who ended up auditioning for the musical with the captain of the basketball team. They broke the status quo and changed the school, but they fought for their positions.

"And, Lucille," Phillip spoke, his voice beginning to turn frantic. "You can't lie to me and say that her breakdown wasn't because of the fact that she was signed up to audition for the musical."

His mother reached out to place a hand on his own, which were wrung together on his lap. She forced his hands apart, slipping hers into his own. "Yes, I believe that Lucille's breakdown resulted from the fact she was signed up for the musical. But, I also know that her breakdown stemmed from something, but it was nothing that you did."

Phillip thought of Lucille in Chemistry. She sat rigid in her seat, eyes down on the desk. She was rigid and still, flinching when he reached out to touch her arm. She had been still for a moment and then she took off running out the door. He thought of her after Aunt Shar found them in the music room, how she refused to look at him as she collected her things and left, how she ignored his desperate attempts to talk to her. He closed his eyes.

"She wouldn't have sung if it wasn't for me," Phillip responded.

"Phillip," his mother ordered. " _Stop_ ," He bit his lip to stop himself from rambling. This time, however, he drew blood, feeling the metallic taste along his lip. He dropped his eyes to their joined hands, avoiding his mother's intense gaze. "Stop doing this to yourself. Stop trying to blame yourself for everything that happens."

Phillip is quiet. His vision is hazy.

"Maybe, I shouldn't do it," he spoke to himself.

His mother's eyes flew up to him and she gave him a skeptical look. "You were just saying a few minutes ago that you wanted to do it."

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off as he avoided her gaze. "Maybe, I should focus more on baseball or the scholastic decathlon, you know? Get money for scholarships and stuff like that…"

She reached out to take his hand. "You'll regret not doing the musical."

"Maybe," he spoke. "I don't even know if I'll be able to do it, you know, and besides I might not…"

His mother cut him off before he could complete the thought. "Don't you dare say that you aren't good enough." She reached up, taking his head in her hands and forced him to look at her. He shied away under her intense, protective gaze. "You have always been good enough to do anything you ever wanted to accomplish and more."

He bit his lip.

Phillip didn't dare fight her. Even after sixteen years of living, Phillip had never once won an argument against his mother. But, no matter how many times they fought about that one simple fact, it always seemed to seep into Phillip's mind whenever he did _anything_. If you absolutely needed to stick a label on it, it was his worst fear: not being good enough. No matter how hard his mother tried to stop it or how hard Phillip wanted the thought out of his head, it always managed to stick and it unnerved the both of them.

But, they always managed to persist.

And, suddenly, his thoughts shifted to Daisy. He had been waiting for Daisy and Evan to arrive at school this morning. Daisy had immediately glanced at the board where his name was now written alongside Lucille's. He had always been hyper-aware of her actions, but today, it seemed like she went into overdrive, waiting for her reaction. It was almost instantaneous that he identified her chest fallen stature. Then, she had brushed past him, ignoring him altogether, and headed towards the cafeteria. Evan looked at him in a way that should've been comforting. Except, it wasn't. He decided to skip breakfast and ended up working on homework in the library. Evan didn't join him and there was a part of him that feared that Evan was mad at him too.

"You know that your father and I don't care about you getting scholarships or not," his mother cut through his thoughts. Phillip glanced up at her, suddenly aware that he had missed most of her speech. He nodded his head, looking back at his hands. "We just want you to have fun while in high school, Phillip. We want you to do what _you_ want to do. Not what some boards and random people think you should be doing."

She reached out to touch his shoulder and Phillip breathed in deeply, closing his eyes.

"You know that your father and I will support you with anything that you choose to do," his mother spoke. He bit, harshly at his bottom lip. It was so harsh, harsher than the last time, that he could taste blood, a metallic taste. His tongue immediately moved to stop the bleeding.

"I've never been a singer, Mom," Phillip responded. "I'm not a singer."

"But, you _can_ be."

 _But,_ he thought, _I'll never be good enough to be a singer_.

A sob startled both of them.

The sob escaped from Phillip's lips and he quickly brought up the jacket by his side to smother the sounds before his younger siblings heard. He didn't need them worrying, or making fun of him, and he didn't need to be crying. He didn't need to be doing this right now, not with so much work that needed to be done. His mother reached out, he flinched at the touch, and she wrapped her arms around him. She brought him against her, tucking his head beneath her chin and holding him there as he cried.

A hand ran through his hair. The motion was oddly comforting to him and he felt her fingers wipe the tears off of his cheeks. Even though he tried to get away from her, she held up, whispering in his ear that everything would be okay. But, would it?

He had thought that he had finally managed to get his groove, balancing school and a semi-decent social life that might've included a girlfriend for the first time since freshman year, for the first time since Phillip became painfully aware that his family would struggle to put him through college. He had been balancing all AP courses and multiple after-school activities to build up his future college applications. And, his only real friend was Evan and a handful of other students in the same boat. And, he might've been even a few weeks away from finally asking Daisy out in a way that he wanted to since the moment that she came to New Mexico nine months ago.

But, now, he ruined it all.

If possible, the tears increased, though he wasn't entirely sure what the tears were for. Were they for the fact that he knew he wasn't good enough? Or, were they because of Daisy? Her defeated and sad eyes from Chemistry flashed in his mind. _He_ caused that. He knew it. He thought that he finally managed to break through the large brick wall that her father had taught her to build and thought he had managed to break through the iron wall around her heart. But, he only seemed to help her reinforce it, building it higher and higher.

 _What if I really am not good enough?_

"Get it all out," his mother's voice was briefly comforting. The door swung open at that moment and all he heard his mother's voice become harsh as she ordered whoever it was out of the room in fast Spanish that he barely understood the meaning. He managed to chuckle, but only briefly before the sobs took over once again and he leaned into her embrace. The door opened again, but her mother didn't order them out this time. "Get it all out," she spoke, leaning her head against his own.

There was a hand on his back. Phillip realized it was his father's, stronger and larger than his mother's hand. But, he was rubbing circles on his back, never wavering from his side. He felt one of his parents press a kiss against his forehead and felt his father's head on his shoulder, a comforting gesture. "Get it all out, Phillip," his father's voice spoke. It earned another sob. "I've always taught you that it's okay to cry. Get it all out. It'll make you feel better. I promise."

...

Troy had gone to the hospital immediately after practice was over.

His dad was furious at the prospect of spending one more night in the hospital, but Troy had all the paperwork in order so his mother-in-law could pick up his father from the hospital without much of a fuss. Because of his limited mobility, they would have to hire a nurse to help him while the other two occupants in the house were at school. Troy wasn't worried about it. They had the money for it. But, his dad was angry about it, saying that he couldn't wait until he could get out of the cast and stand on his own two feet again. Troy was exhausted and didn't feel like arguing with him.

So, after the doctor came in to talk to him and his dad, Troy headed home, saying that he needed to be with Lucille.

And, once he got home, he found his mother-in-law resting on the couch with Lucille curled up beside her. His daughter's head was pressed against her knee, her legs curled beneath her and a blanket over her. In the armchair, Evelyn was passed out as well. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, her legs were propped up on the coffee table and she seemed to have her arms wrapped around one of the throw pillows. Their chemistry books were on the table with papers stuffed between pages.

From his spot curled on the back of the couch, their black cat, Salem, raised his head to glare at Troy.

"Hi Mom," Troy spoke, walking over to press a kiss against her cheek.

"Chemistry knocked the wind out of them," his mother-in-law explained, running her hand through Lucille's curls. "I was fixing to wake them up and send Evelyn home before her parents began to worry about her." Troy nodded his head, looking towards the television screen. He smiled at the sight of his high school friends on the screen. They were all sitting around in an ice cream parlor, laughing. He remembered it clearly. It was one of the last times they were all together before Gabriella left and they all spread out over the country. "I brought all of her videos over for Lucille to watch. I thought that it might help."

Troy nodded his head, feeling Salem brush against his arm. He reached up to pet the black cat's head as he watched the television. The camera was focused on him, dressed in a white v-neck and a flannel over it. There was a bandana over his forehead and his arm was wrapped around Gabriella, who was leaning against his shoulder. He looked up, spotting the camera on him. Within moments, he was out of his seats. The laughter from the group was loud and joyous as the camera followed Troy. The holder of the camera was trying to run away from him but he dove, grabbing the holder of the camera and fighting for control. The camera shook, showing flashes of the group before it steadied held now by Troy.

Now, the focus of the camera was now Kelsi. Her hair was long, brown and curly, spilling in waves unhindered by a hat in one of those rare instances. She had black framed glasses, a white shirt, and a yellow-gray striped cover-up. The camera looked down at her, but that was simply because of their height differences. She reached up for the camera and it was only held up higher to avoid her from getting the camera back.

" _Troy!"_ she snapped, but it's a playful smile with no bite to her words. " _Give me back the camera."_

The video paused on her face, on her smile as she reached for the camera. Blinking back into reality, back into the living room, Troy felt a hand on his elbow and he looked to find his mother-in-law looking up at him with a knowing smile. "You don't have to be strong all the time, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," he responded, looking away. He looked over towards Lucille, who was still asleep against the couch. "I need to be strong for her."

"No, you don't," his mother-in-law responded. She stood up, wrapping an arm around Troy briefly before moving into the kitchen. "Your daughter knows that you are not strong all the time, Troy, and you don't have to lie to her." Troy followed her into the kitchen where she pressed the start button on the Keurig and grabbed a pod of decaf coffee from the bin. "You're not alone in this endeavor."

Troy glanced towards Lucille, who he could still barely see from his position in the kitchen, as the woman pulled a mug from the cabinet.

"You've got me, you've got your wife, you've got your father, and we're all here for you," she spoke as she placed the pod in the coffee pot and closed the lid. With the push of one more button, the coffee maker stirred to life. "And, that's just talking about within the immediate family. You've also got Chad and Taylor."

"I know, Mom," he spoke. She turned around and gave him a look that practically screamed 'really?' to which he grinned. "Don't worry. If it ever gets too much, I promise to call you or Dad to help me out."

"It's okay not to be strong all of the time," she responded, moving back to the cup of coffee. "If you ever need a place to scream, I think you know the perfect place to go." Troy let out a laugh.

* * *

 **And, that's the end of this chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed it and are willing to leave me a follow/favorite/review for this chapter!**

 **Next chapter, the focus is still mainly on Lucille and her view of the whole scenario. But, the chapter after that, we're focusing on Phillip and him coming around to the idea of being in the musical. I feel like the movies didn't talk about it until later so I really wanted to do this for this story. I hope you guys are okay with that!**

 **See you next time!**


	6. Chapter 6: The Bolton Family

**Hey, everyone! We're back again with another chapter of "Another High School Musical". I apologize once again for taking a while to upload this chapter, but I have been swamped with homework (physics is kicking my butt). Hopefully to make up for it. Here's an extra long chapter! And, there is another heavy talk in this chapter that involves Lucille and what happened to her.**

 **Caution: there is a pretty heavy scene with references to something that could be triggering. I have an author's note before and after the session to show where it is blocked off. If you don't feel comfortable when beginning to read the scene, go ahead and skip the section.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any characters recognizable by the High School Musical franchise.**

* * *

Another High School Musical

* * *

Chapter Six: The Bolton Family

* * *

Evelyn thought that telling her parents that she was bisexual was a stressful situation to be in. But, she doesn't think she's ever been more stressed than she did while standing opposite of Troy Bolton. After spending the night over at the Bolton house and waking up sprawled across a guest bedroom that she didn't recognize and managing to stumble to the living room to find her friend's father handing her a cup of coffee, she was still a tad disoriented. But, she knew that the father had some questions for her.

And then, Lucille stumbled down the stairs and interrupted what he seemed to desperately want to talk about.

Evelyn had driven her car back to school. Evelyn didn't know why she was so surprised to be the same size as Lucille. But, thankfully she was because it saved her a trip back to her own house to collect clothes and receive her mother's lecture (though Mr. Bolton had assured that he smoothed it out with her mother, Evelyn was almost certain she would still receive a lecture when she finally returned home). So, Evelyn had opted to wear Lucille's gray sweater and a pair of her black athletic leggings that only went to her mid-calf. With bright blue hair, it was always safest to go with neutral colors.

Normally, she tried to add some splash of color to her clothes (unless it was the first two weeks after a break in which she wore all black to mourn the loss of her free time), but today, she didn't care about color.

Black and gray was just fine.

But, in all honesty, the only thing Evelyn wanted to know was _how_ Troy Bolton managed to get her phone number. And, how in the world he had such good timing to manage to text her _right_ as she was walking in the front door of the building? The man must be psychic or something, Evelyn decided.

 _7:15 am_ _Lucille went to the roof with Daniel. Can we talk real quick? -Troy Bolton_.

Evelyn sent back a quick confirmation and spend the walk over to the classroom adding the foreign phone number to her contacts. Once she arrived at the door, she attempted to open it only to find that the door was locked. She glanced up and saw a sign that said ' _Grading Papers. Please knock!'_ in the teacher's handwriting. She reached up hesitantly knocking on the door. As she waited, she changed to another app and stared at the screentime of her longtime friend, _CharmsingGuy1701._ Her heart thumped as she stared at the last message she had sent him.

 _9:30 pm Hey, it's me. I know it's really late/early where you are but we need to talk._

She hadn't gotten a response back from him and she was fairly certain that she didn't know what she was going to say once he finally got the chance to message her. She locked her screen, tapping her phone against her mouth as she waited for the teacher. She had known that her writing buddy was an international pop star for almost as long as she knew him (I mean, it's not every day you meet a movie star at a ski resort the weekend of Halloween!). But, now that she knew everything, knew of his connection to her new friend, she felt compelled to tell him that she knew who he was, who he _truly_ was, and that she would watch after his sister while he was away on tour. So, he wouldn't worry.

 _God,_ she thought. _That is going to be a long talk._

 _Hey, by the way, I know the true identity that you keep from the rest of the world to protect your little sister and father from the scrutiny of the paparazzi that follows your every move in a near suffocating way. And, I know because I'm now friends with your little sister who I absolutely adore and she's one of my close friends and..._

Okay, so she needed to work on it.

Evelyn reached up to knock on the door again. But, as her knuckles moved to hit the door, she saw movement in the window and she withdrew her hand before Mr. Bolton swung the door open. He breathed in relief at the sight of her. "Come on in, Evelyn," he spoke, ushering her inside. Evelyn stepped beside him, depositing her stuff on a desk by the door, and turned towards him. He shut the door behind him. "Thank you for coming here."

"No problem," Evelyn replied. "I am curious though. How did you have my phone number?"

"I got it from Lucille's phone last night," Mr. Bolton responded as he walked back towards his desk. His desk was on the opposite side of the room, tucked away in the corner diagonal from the door. It was also covered with graded and ungraded papers. Though, Evelyn sees that he has a system going on. She's just not for sure what the system is. "I only got it on the off chance something else happened and you needed to let me know you were taking Lucille home again."

"Got it," Evelyn replied. She had wished that she had the number yesterday to message him. But, Lucille stated that he didn't look at his phone until after the school day was over. It had been useless to message him and Evelyn thought she was right. Without meaning to, she glanced at her phone. The picture of her and her own father flashed up at her. "So, what did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Bolton?"

"It's about Lucille," he spoke. "And, Evelyn, right now I'm just a father asking about my daughter. You don't have to call me Mr. Bolton right now. Please, call me Troy."

"Alright," Evelyn spoke. "Troy? Why do you want to talk about Lucille?" She glanced up at him and saw the look on his face. He was looking away from her, but she spotted the expression plastered on his face. It was one of worry and hurting and all other emotions Evelyn expected a father to feel after their daughter had a panic attack in the bathroom of a school. She bit her lip and let him figure out his words.

"Is she okay?" he finally decided.

Evelyn breathed. And, spoke the truth, "In all honesty, I don't know." He looked up at her, giving her a look that she recognized well. She might've only been his student for two weeks, but she knew when teachers sent her the 'explain' look when they didn't like her blunt answer. "I think that she's still upset about the whole scenario. But, I also think watching those home movies helped her out a bit. In figuring out what she wants to do, that is."

Troy nodded his head. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a shaky breath that she didn't even realize he was holding. "That's good," he whispered, more to himself than to her. He was so quiet that Evelyn had to strain to hear his comment and pretended not to hear it. He was louder for his next comment which let her know that it was directed towards her. "Has she decided on if she's going to do the musical?"

Evelyn shook her head. "No, I think she's still on the fence about what she wants to do." She wrung her hands together. "I think it might be beneficial for her to speak to her brother. He might be able to help her out."

He let out a sigh. "Yeah, I thought of that," he whispered. "But, the problem is that…" He trailed off as though he couldn't finish his sentence.

"He's an international pop star and is currently in France?" Evelyn questioned, careful not to be too loud as she spoke the truth they both knew. The door to the hallway was closed and the other classrooms around them were either empty or had numerous students talking loudly to one another. However, Troy did not seem to be aware that she knew from the look that he gave her and Evelyn threw up her hands. "She had told me about it before Ms. Darbus came over. But, I think she was going to tell me after I followed her to the bathroom but Mrs. Castillo came in before she could."

"Oh," Troy responded. "I'm sorry, she didn't tell me that you knew."

"It's okay," Evelyn spoke. "She's been preoccupied."

"That's true," Troy replied. He looked at his phone and stared at it with a confused look on his face.

"What?" she questioned. "Is it Lucille?"

"No, it's not anything to do with her," he replied. "I just realized something…" He glanced back up her and she raised an eyebrow. "It's just that my wife didn't call me last night. She's usually pretty meticulous with calling me at night."

"Oh," Evelyn replied. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Troy gave her a funny look. "You don't even know my wife," he spoke, but there's a chuckle present in his voice.

Evelyn bit her lip and looked away from him. "I mean, I _kinda_ do? I only met her once and it was pretty brief… at a Halloween party… about a year ago…"

She nervously glanced towards him. For a minute, Troy simply looked at her and his eyebrows furrow in confusion as he's trying to process what she said. And, then, she sees the drawing of a realization and there's a laugh the forms in his throat. He hurried to laugh in his hand as he looked towards the papers that rested in front of him. "Oh, that's a weird twist of fate. And, I thought Gabriella transferring to my school was impossible."

"Huh?" she questioned.

"Nothing," Troy spoke, waving his hand. "I'm sure you'll hear the story eventually." She smiled at him though she still remained confused. There's a knock on the classroom door. "Do you mind getting that for me?" he questioned. Evelyn nodded, moving towards the door. "I think it might be Mrs. Castillo asking about how Lucille is doing."

She got to the door, peering out the window. She couldn't see anyone standing outside of the door other than the handful of students that were walking through the hallway. But, to be safe, she opened the door slightly and swung it open. A hand darted out to grab at the edge of the door and open it the rest of the way. The woman stepped into view and Evelyn thought for a moment that the woman had stopped breathing.

Evelyn knew that she had (except, not really, because if she _had_ stopped breathing, she would be dead).

The woman in front of her was almost the same height as her, with long curly brown hair spilling from a red beanie. The woman looked at Evelyn with wide blue eyes that peered at her from behind a pair of red-framed glasses. She was dressed in an East High hoodie and a pair of denim jeans. The blue-haired girl was barely taller than the woman in front of her even with the woman opposite of her in heels.

 _If she's here, then..._

Evelyn turned towards Troy, who gave her a look of confusion. "I have to go," she spoke, suddenly. "I'll be back for my stuff before class starts." She tiptoed around the woman before running towards the cafeteria.

* * *

 _5:30 am Hey, it's me. I know it's really late/early where you are but we need to talk._

The sight of the message on the screen gave him more anxiety than he was ever willing to admit publicly. Or, even to her. The girl on the other end of the text was the endgame. He had known it from the moment that they had met in that stupid Halloween party that he had been dragged too. He had been dressed as "Modern Prince Charming" which was supposed to be ironic and she was dressed up as Evie from Descendents (which was _also_ meant to be ironic) with a bright blue wig and everything. They had spent most of the night crammed in the corner. It was the beginning of his career at Matty Nielsen and he had known enough to be wary but was naive enough to not shove her away.

And, this was a girl he had genuinely felt a connection to. She loved writing about as much as he did (he dabbled with writing stories in between tutors and singing and writing songs, but his mother was always better at that). So, they exchanged i.m. names to keep in touch and he hadn't seen her since. He wanted to see her and tell her everything, but he couldn't do that right now.

He bit his lip as he looked at the message. He quickly tried to convert the time to what it would be in France so he could figure out what the schedule would be. It would be eight hours from now so he _should_ be resting before his final rehearsal for the France show. His phone was still stuck in the timezone of France, so his phone shouldn't give him away.

 _Alright, what's up? Early morning rehearsal but I've got a couple of hours. Is everything okay?_

When he feels the hand on his shoulder, his thumb was hovering over the send key. His mind quickly flashes through what he's going to say. He's meeting up his girlfriend… no, he's meeting his boyfriend (and this hypothetical boyfriend was a junior) to have a quick breakfast at the bakery that his dad talked about the last time they talked and, no, he wasn't Matty Nielsen though he gets that a lot. But, as he turned and started to anticipate the comment 'You look so much like Matty Nielsen', he found his heart jumping to his throat and begin to thump wildly.

He blinked. " _Evie?!"_

She grinned at him. For a split second, he thought that he saw a soft shade of pink ghosting across her cheeks before it was gone. "Well, hello to you too, Clark Kent. Cute glasses." She pointed at the black frames that he always used when he went out in public. Now, Matty felt his face heat up as he nervously tweaked at the glasses. The girl in front of him had her bright blue hair descending in messy waves that had to have come from sleeping and not having a brush. She wore a gray sweater that went a little bit past her hips and a pair of black athletic leggings.

 _This wasn't what he expected to come from the day._

"Thanks," he spoke, his cheeks flushing again once he realized he was staring. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," she deadpanned, shrugging her shoulders. She sent a text to someone. "You see when your mom showed up as I was talking to your dad, I figured that you had to be somewhere nearby. So, I figured I should find you before Daniel did."

"You know, Daniel?" he questioned. Suddenly, the rest of her sentence caught up to him like a freight train and he recoiled, stepping back from her. "Wait. What do you mean?" He looked around, but none of the tired teenagers that busied around them paid either of them any attention. They were too tired as they moved to the cafeteria.

She gave him a look and took a frightening step closer. "Not now, there's too much to catch up on and I'm not the one who needs you right now," she whispered to him.

"Hold on. I gotta go find…" he trailed off unable to figure out what he was going to say.

"Sister?" she filled in. He nodded his head, unsure of how she knew. "I know where she is. Come on." She reached out to take his hand and he felt his hand respond to hers easily. She pulled him towards where the crowd was going, a busy cafeteria, and he hurried to move into step beside her. "We better get there soon before Daniel or his girlfriend finds us. I really don't feel like being in the middle of a fight today."

"Wait," Matty stopped. His motion was counteracted by her own continuing to move, but he was stronger and she stumbled backward once their arms straightened out. She wasn't expecting it and nearly fell over as a result. He hurried to catch her before she hit the white tile floor, straightening her back up, and she turned towards him. He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "Daniel's girlfriend?"

"Yeah," she sounded like she didn't like the prospect of it either. "His girlfriend."

Matty blinked at her and whispered, "But, he doesn't even _like_ girls."

She threw her hands up in the air (and the one that held his brought his own hand along as well). "Trust me, I know, I know, I keep telling him that hiding it would only make it worse, but you know what he tells me? You don't _understand,_ Evelyn." Matty chuckled at her impression. "But, whenever I ask so I _can_ understand, he doesn't tell me and just marches off into the distance before I can ask what he… Wait… how do you know?"

Matty raised an eyebrow at her. "How exactly did you think he found out?"

The look on her face was priceless. Her mouth dropped, but she was half grinning, half looking like everything made sense all in one go. Matty could see the puzzle pieces clicking together in her mind as she looked up at him. Suddenly, she hit his shoulder. "Oh my god," she whispered. "That changes everything that I thought I knew. I always thought it was Shelby that made him think…" She blinked. "Wait, did you two date?"

Matty scoffed at her. "No, actually, it was more of an experimental thing for both of us. We talked about it afterward. We told our parents… no, actually, I told my parents and informed them that I didn't think I was as straight as I thought I was… I don't remember if Daniel actually told his parents about the whole thing though."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "How come I never heard about this?"

Matty glanced down at her. It was a difficult question to answer. And, she was upset. He could tell. He wasn't surprised. He had been the one to talk with her about her own discovery of her identity. But, before he could even open his mouth to respond, she shook her head, "Nevermind, we can talk later. We gotta hurry."

And, with that, she was tugging him back the way they had originally going.

* * *

Troy was about halfway out of his chair to follow Evelyn when the woman stepped into the classroom and shut the door behind her. Troy looked at her with a confused look before realization struck a heartbeat later. He breathed in relief and his wife looked up at him. His wife smiled at him before crossing the room and wrapping her arms around his waist. He gripped at her shoulders. He buried his face in the flesh of her shoulder and exhaled a shaky breath.

He wasn't going to lie. He felt better already.

"What are you doing here, Kelsi?" he spoke.

She chuckled. "Danny called Matty yesterday after Lucille had a panic attack."

Troy pulled away, running a hand through his hair. She looked up at him with a worried look in her eyes but a small grin on her face as she gazed at him. "I was going to tell you when you called me last night. I didn't even find out myself until after school ended and I talked with Sharpay and…" he trailed off and let out a groan. "I'm going to kill him at practice this afternoon."

"Don't kill Danny," she lightly ordered. "Matty wanted to see Lucille and I knew you were in school so I didn't tell you. Then, we were on the plane and… yeah, I'm sorry I didn't tell you that we were coming, but I figured it would be a pretty good surprise."

"It's okay and it is," Troy spoke.

"Who was that girl, by the way?" Kelsi questioned, lacing their fingers together.

"Evelyn," Troy replied. His phone went off on his desk and he moved to grab it. Kelsi insisted on keeping their hands linked and followed him over to his desk. "She's a friend of Lucille. She helped her with her panic attack yesterday and then took her home. She's also, apparently, a friend of Matty's which is a random coincidence that I find incredibly funny." He reached over picking up the phone.

 _7:32 am I'm with Matty._

Kelsi shrugged her shoulders as he sat back down at his desk and surveyed the paper explosion in front of him. "The universe works in funny ways." She gave him a look, one he knew incredibly well. It was the look that she always gave him when she knew something was wrong with him. She had sent it to his way on numerous times. The first one that he could physically remember was after Gabriella had gone to California and he was forced to dance with Sharpay in the musical. She tilted her head to the side as she placed her free hand on his shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now," he admitted, reaching up to grab the hand on his shoulder. "But, I'm worried."

"I can tell," his wife admitted with a sigh. He glanced up at her and she nodded towards his desk. "Your desk is a _mess_. Do you even have anything organized?" He chuckled.

"Not anymore. I did for a bit, but there was a lot of things that got turned in yesterday. I may have to stay after tomorrow to get everything organized again."

"Well, you've been a bit preoccupied. You know you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?"

"God," he spoke, the laugh returning to his voice once again. "Did you talk to Mom before you came here because she said the exact same thing to me yesterday." She shook her head and leaned against his desk. His hand was in between hers with her thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. He gripped her hand tighter as though she might disappear into the air. She might when classes started, he thought. But, not right now. "I just…" he trailed off. She didn't move to fill in the sentence even though they both knew that she could. "I just want to help her."

"I know," she whispered. Troy glanced at her, knowing that she had the same need to understand what was going on in their daughter's head. "But, Lucille doesn't want to tell us what happened. And, we've always agreed to never invade our children's privacy so we could always have their confidence when it came to important matters." She paused, reaching up to touch Troy's face. "We need to believe in our son to help her through this."

Troy nodded his head. "I know and I do believe in him to help her," he whispered. "I just wish that there was something that _I_ can do to help her."

His wife smiled at him, one of those smiles that make him slip into a daze for just a moment. "Just continue being her dad, her lovely and wonderful and overprotective father," she muttered, pushing back a strand of his hair from his forehead. "That's enough for her. And, I know that you know that so don't you dare deny it. We don't know what's going on with her and how much it's affecting her, but she knows that we'll be here for her whenever she needs us to be."

"I know," he replied. He squeezed her hand in response. "I just-" In a particularly bold move for Kelsi (even as his wife), she dipped down to cut him off with a kiss. Troy squeezed her hand harder and felt her hand grip his in response. She pulled back from him and he looked up towards her.

"We've never needed words before, Troy. Now, isn't any different." Troy nodded his head, reaching up to brace the back of her head and pull her back to him for another kiss. Both her hands were on either side of his face and his hand that she held drop to her knee.

But, he feels the need to say it when she pulls away. "I just wish you were home," he breathed.

"I wish I was home too," is her response.

* * *

"Evelyn."

It was Shelby.

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes," Evelyn pushed Matty up the stairs. The boy gave her a weird look before going up the rest of the way. He went out onto the roof and the door slammed shut behind him and Evelyn watched him go before pivoting towards Shelby, who sent a curious glance at the boy who disappeared. "What is it, Shelby?" she questioned.

Shelby was dressed with her black curls in a tight ponytail on the back of her head. The girl wore a fashionable white tanktop which contrasted nicely with her skin and a beige crocheted sweater around her shoulder. She also wore a pair of blue skinny jeans tucked into a pair of boots. Evelyn gulped, biting at her lips as the head cheerleader appraised her. She coughed and Shelby adverted her gaze.

"Who was that?" she questioned, nodding towards the roof entrance.

"A friend," she replied, instantaneously.

"A friend?" Shelby questioned. "Like a boyfriend?"

Evelyn let out an involuntarily sigh. "If you mean a boy who is also a friend, then yes he is. What do you want to talk about?"

"Preferably, I don't want to talk at-," Shelby spoke before halting herself mid-sentence. Evelyn glanced up at her. The remark must've been an instinct because the girl bit down on her lip and sheepishly looked away from the blue-haired girl. Evelyn watched as Shelby looked around the empty hallway. She was afraid that someone would overhear. Evelyn knew. She had been there.

Then, suddenly, Shelby was taking her hand and dragging her further down the hallway. Shelby found an empty room that was open and tugged her inside. Evelyn stumbled into one of the desks in the Garden Club's normal hangout. But, she quickly straightened herself as Shelby locked the door so they wouldn't be disturbed. The room was empty and they were alone.

"I don't want to talk at all," she repeated.

Evelyn gave the girl opposite her a look. "You already know that's not an option. Not with me."

Shelby shrugged her shoulders. "I know."

"Then, why do you keep asking?"

"Because I really like you," Shelby confessed.

Evelyn bit her lip again.

"And, I know you like me too."

And, there it was.

Evelyn did like Shelby. She always had from the moment that Evelyn had finally come to terms with her own sexuality. But, because there was always one of those in situations like this, Evelyn didn't like the fact that both Shelby and Daniel were masquerading their relationship around the school to hide their sexualities. She had to give it to them. Not very many people would have the guts to kiss someone on the mouth (and fake jealousy) to hide the fact that they weren't actually in a relationship. But, Shelby did.

She wished that liking someone of the same gender was considered normal.

Shelby was only out to a select few people. Daniel and Evelyn. That was it. There were a handful of reasons that Shelby could've been keeping that part of her a secret. But, one of them was definitely that she was afraid that colleges would withhold scholarships because she liked girls instead of boys. Another was that she didn't want the other cheerleaders to feel uncomfortable when she was around. Evelyn had told her numerous times that her sexuality should not be a problem for the other cheerleaders. Most of them had been raised in an environment and a time where it simply didn't matter anymore.

But, even so, Evelyn understood her reason for being quiet.

"I do like you," Evelyn told her. "But, I also want to have a public relationship where I don't have to skirt around in the shadows and I can kiss you in public without having to watch you kiss your supposed boyfriend to keep up an act that the two of you want to keep. I understand the need to keep it a secret for fear of scrutiny and I understand why you are doing it, but that doesn't mean I can't be unhappy about it."

"I can't give you that," Shelby spoke.

"I know," Evelyn replied. "But, you are the one who can't seem to live with that response."

"Maybe there's a part of me that wants it to change."

"It's not going to."

"I know."

* * *

 **(A/N) Caution: This upcoming scene has some vague references for what happened to Lucille prior to the story. Because of nature, I caution everyone to be careful when reading this scene. If you don't feel comfortable reading this scene, do not read it. I will put an author's note at the end of the section if you want to skip past to that.**

* * *

Hey, you."

Lucille thought she was hearing things. She _had_ to be hearing things. Or she was losing her mind (and the jury was out with that one). Because, that was the voice of her twin brother, Matthew Jack, and he was in France at the current moment and wasn't set to be home for another few months of his world tour. But, she turned away from the view of the suburbs of Albuquerque, New Mexico to find said twin walking over to her on the rooftop of her high school.

He was dressed in a pair of worn denim jeans and a plain but bright red t-shirt. He had a thin jacket on his shoulders and the zipper was open. He had on a pair of black frame glasses (which he actually didn't need) perched on his nose. And, there was a maroon beanie fitted over his head with his brown locks poked from beneath the cloth. His hands were dug into the pockets of his jeans and he smiled sheepishly at her. She was always in awe of how he _always_ managed to look so natural and casual in anything he was in.

It was unfair.

"Matty?" she questioned.

"Hey," he spoke. Lucille gave him a look and scrambled to her feet, quickly closing the distance and throwing her arms around her twin's neck. His arms wrapped tightly around her, bringing her close against him.

She pulled back from him, keeping him at arm's length. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"At school or in Albuquerque?" he questioned.

"Both!" she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

He laughed. "I was worried about you." He took her hand and dragged her over to the greenhouse. He sat down on the ground and she moved to join him. She turned to face him as he propped himself against the greenhouse. "Danny called," he informed her. Lucille rolled her eyes and looked away from him. _Of course, he did_. "And, I was worried about you so I managed to convince Mom to let me come see you for a bit."

"You managed to convince Mom to let you fly from France to New Mexico?" Lucille questioned.

"Well, once she heard it was because you were signed up to audition for the musical, she was pretty worried about you too," Matty replied. "And, so we both got on a plane and headed this way. We're leaving after dinner tonight and we'll be pretty close and I'll be knocked out on sleeping medication to try and combat the jet lag. But, we'll be able to make it in time for the final day of rehearsals."

"That's good," Lucille spoke. "How did you find me?"

"Evie," he responded.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "How does she know you?"

"Quit trying to stall the conversation, Lucky," he spoke, softly. He turned towards her and she looked over at him and the all-knowing look in his eye. He knew. He knew what she was thinking. Evelyn had tried to hit the mark, but she didn't have all the information. But, Matty knew. She had begged him not to tell and he hadn't and he wouldn't not until she told him to because 'that was her secret to tell'. He gave her a look and she avoided his gaze.

"I don't want to talk about it," she responded.

"I know you don't want to talk about it and trust me when I say that I don't really want to talk about it either because it hurts you," he replied. He reached out to take her hand and she looked up at him. "But, we need to talk about it if you're going to get better. Dad's worried about you. Mom's worried about you. So are Nana and Grandpa. I'm worried about you."

"I know, I know you are all worried about…"

"You need to hear this." Her brother reached out to grip her shoulders and force her to keep looking at him when she desperately wanted to look away. His gaze was intense and protective. "Whatever it is that's holding you back from doing something that I know you still love, it stems from _him_. And he isn't here. He isn't near you anymore. He cannot harm you anymore. He cannot touch you anymore. I promise you I won't let him have the opportunity to do that to you again."

"I know," she whispered.

"No," he responded. She moved to rebuff him and he held up his hand to stop her. "You don't. He was trying to alienate you and separate you from anyone and everything you loved so he could have you completely under his control and you fought his control and he got angry with you and he did what he did and then he won, Lucille. He's winning because you are doing exactly what he wanted you to do. You dropped out of drama and you stopped singing and you stopped being happy."

He paused and gripped tightly on his knee. He was breathing heavy as though talking so much was worse than singing and talking for almost a straight couple of hours with only five minutes breaks. She moved to speak and tell him that he didn't have to say it and it probably was going to be involved with some sort of joke at her own expense. But, he knew that and cut her off before she was fully aware that she opened her mouth.

"And, I don't care how many times it takes me telling you because I'm going to tell you every time and it's never going to be annoying for me to say it. Because it serves a person and it helps you and I will say it over and over and over again until you stop believing the lies that he has managed to get into your head."

"Matty," she spoke, reaching up to rub her eyes. "You don't have to-"

"I'm never going to stop telling you that you're beautiful, Lucille. You look like the spitting image of Mom with Dad's jawline. And, it's incredibly unfair to everyone else in the universe because we come from two of the most attractive people of their graduating class. Though, I might be biased. I'm never going to stop telling you that I wish you were onstage beside me or backstage every time I start a concert or a new set. I want you there with me and I want to be here with you. And, I'm never going to stop telling you that you are twice the singer that I am and that I have always tried to be as good as you are when you sing because you sing with every fiber of your being and it is _incredible_ to watch."

He reached up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks and she flinched, looking up to see that he had tears rolling down his cheeks too.

"Our father spent half of his high school career torn between basketball (in which he won two state championships) and theater. Our mother is a world famous director, composer, and has been composing since she's been able to pick up a pencil. They taught us to always do what makes us happy. And, what you are doing right now isn't making you happy," he whispered. "Is it?"

Lucille inhaled a shaky breath. And, she shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Her brother reached up and raised her head so she'd look at him. "If you decide what I hope you decide and you ever need to hear that again, call me. I don't care if I'm on stage in front of millions. I will call you back and I'll tell you this all over again. Because you need to hear it and I'm more than willing to tell you it all over again if I have to. Hell, I'll even record it and send it to you so that way you can hear it whenever you need to." He paused and Lucille was certain that she heard her heart thumping in her chest as her brain poured over his words. "Do you believe me?"

She blinked.

"Yes," she whispered.

* * *

 **(A/N) End Scene.**

* * *

When the door to Sharpay's room opens up after school, she assumed that it would simply be Troy once again, this time trying his damnedest to get Sharpay to change her mind about having Lucille be the one to talk to him. And, so as such, she told him without looking up, "Troy, if you are here to talk about getting Lucille out of the musical, I've already told you my terms."

Except, it wasn't Troy.

"I know, Mrs. Leverett," Lucille spoke. Sharpay glanced up to find the brunette standing at the door. She was nervous, picking at her fingernails, as she stepped further into the room. "I wanted to talk to you about that actually…"

"About not doing the musical?" Sharpay questioned, pushing herself to her feet. She walked around her desk and took the stairs off the stage. She had already fallen over once today. She did not want to take the chance of that happening again.

The brunette looked up to the teacher as she approached. For a moment, she's quiet and then, she whispers, "I don't know…" And, Sharpay never thought that she'd ever witness the pain that Ryan felt all those years ago in her eyes. But, she did in Lucille's eyes for a fraction of a moment and her blue eyes looked over at the desks and it was gone, just like that. Lucille spoke out a weak, "There's a part of me that wants to do the musical audition and there's another part of me that thinks that the musical is in the past." She buried her face in her hands. "It's all very confusing, I shouldn't have come."

She moved to leave and flee the classroom and Sharpay instinctively reached out to grab her arm. _I'm not making that mistake again_ , she thought to herself. Lucille stopped. "Don't leave," Sharpay spoke. "It's not that confusing at all."

Lucille turned towards her. "It isn't?" she replied, her voice tiny.

"No," Sharpay replied, sitting down at the edge of the small makeshift stage. "It's not. Come on, sit with me, and we can talk about it so it might not be as confusing anymore to you. Okay?" Lucille looked at her then nodded her head. She placed her bag at the feet of one of the desks and then sat down beside Sharpay. She gripped onto her fingers and looked at them instead of up at her. "Why do you feel like being in the musical is in the past?"

Lucille bit her lip. "I don't know…" she trailed off.

"Did someone tell you that?" Sharpay questioned.

For a moment, the girl stayed quiet and she glanced up at Sharpay through her eyelashes, giving her a wary look as though she was trying to figure out what she could tell the blonde teacher. Then, finally, she pulled her eyes away from Sharpay and avoided her gaze as she spoke, softly, "Yes."

Sharpay nodded her head and kept her hands on her knees though she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around the girl beside her and tell her what she should've told Ryan. But, she couldn't. So, instead, Sharpay looked at her. "Your dad came and talked to me yesterday," she admitted. "He's really worried about you."

"I know," Lucille replied.

Sharpay nodded. "After he left to go back to practice, I spent the better part of the next couple of hours looking over your file and I must say, I am impressed by the number of years you've spent in some sort of dramatic setting. I talked to your old drama teacher and he sent over some videos. I was thinking maybe something happened and you had some form of stage fright because of something that happened on stage, but I watched the videos and you were brilliant. And, I talked to him again and he wanted me to tell you that he hopes you get back on the stage again because you lived on that stage."

Lucille let out something that resembled a cross between a laugh and a cry. "He's over exaggerating."

"If you are anything like your father was in high school, he's not exaggerating one bit," Sharpay responded and Lucille gave her a weak glance in response. "And, I'm not going to tell you what to do. But, I would love to have you on that stage. I would love to have every student on stage. And, if you want to reevaluate that old part of you, then I am all for giving you the chance and opportunity to do so." Lucille bit her lip. "Did he tell you that you were a bad singer?"

"Who?" Lucille questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"The boy who put you in the hospital," Sharpay spoke.

Lucille looked at her, a look of surprise and shock on her face. And, then, Lucille guarded her expression and looked away again. But, she answered, and it was so soft that she had to strain to hear it, "Yes."

"He was lying," Sharpay stated, matter-of-factly. "He was lying and I can tell you that because I heard you singing with Phillip in that music room and you have a _beautiful_ voice. You are a beautiful singer."

Lucille stayed quiet. "If I end up doing the audition," she started before trailing off. Sharpay watched as she gathered her courage, watched as the multiple different scenarios flashed across her blue eyes, and watched the steel-determination returned in her face that she had only seen once before. And, it almost brought a smile to Sharpay's face. "Are you going to tell me when I am doing something wrong?"

"Yes," Sharpay spoke. "I will tell you if you are doing something wrong and I will tell you how to do a scene better. But, I will also tell you most of the time when you ask me I'm going to tell you that the only thing you are doing wrong is doubting yourself." Lucille nodded her head. "And, if you decide, come to me and I can talk to you about what it is that we need to do to make you feel comfortable. I don't want to put you in a situation that you don't want to be in. If you decide that you don't feel comfortable, come to me and we'll talk about it. If I can't keep you comfortable, then you can leave and I won't stop you."

Lucille nodded her head.

"Lucille," Sharpay spoke to her. The brunette looked up at her. "I can tell that this is not an easy decision for you to make. But, I promise that I'm not going to force you to audition for the musical." Lucille is quiet. "So, take all the time that you need. Talk to your dad. Talk to Evelyn. But, think it over, because I want you in the musical if that's what you want to do."

Lucille nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Leverett," she spoke, bringing her bag to her with her foot. Lucille moved towards the door before stopping. She turned back to Sharpay, who looked at her questionably. "Have you heard from Phillip about if he's going to do the musical?"

Sharpay shook her head. "But, I'm hoping that he will," she replied. "He's always been so stressed with thinking about scholarships for school. And, when he sang with you, I didn't see that. I just hope I didn't cause him more grief as I accidentally caused you."

"You had no way of knowing," Lucille responded.

"One more thing," Sharpay spoke. Lucille turned towards her, a look back in her eyes that reminds Sharpay so much of the girl's own mother. But, she doesn't voice the comparison as she gave Lucille a reassuring smile and whispered, "Don't let him win, Lucille."

A grin crept up on the girl's face, a grin that was involuntarily, and she wondered what ran through the girl's head at that moment.

"I'll try not to," she replied before she left, the door closing behind her. Sharpay watched her go and bit her lip as she thought of the confident composer that Sharpay used to manipulate. It wasn't her proudest moment and she had long since changed since the girl who had done those things. And, she thought to herself, she hoped that she might be able to do better by her daughter.

* * *

"Come on, Jack," Alyson told him. Jack Bolton eyed the wheelchair with a disgruntled gaze as the woman beside him had pushed it between the car door and the body of the car. The blonde woman gave him a look as Jack reached across with his good arm to unbuckle himself. He had done it a few times, getting himself into a wheelchair with only one hand and minimal help. It wasn't easy. But, he could do it. "Troy and Lucille and the Danforths are inside with dinner," she attempted to coax. "And, it's your favorite."

Jack glared at her. Then, he reached out to pull himself out of the car and into the seat. It took a bit of help from Alyson as she pulled him into the seat. Jack let out a huff as he maneuvered himself back further into the wheelchair. The cast on his leg was difficult to angle out of the car. But, Alyson backed up the wheelchair and was able to help him with that. The door to the passenger side closed with the wind and Alyson pushed the wheelchair up the driveway.

"Thank you for not rolling me into the street," he remarked as she turned the wheelchair onto the sidewalk.

"You're welcome."

Alyson rolled him down the sidewalk and towards the front door of the house. At some point, she managed to shift him around so she was dragging him backward. He stared at the street and thought about how much he wanted to get up and walk. But, with a cast on his leg, he was relatively pinned on how much he could move on his own until the doctor made the decision to take it off. Plus, with a nurse coming in while Troy and Lucille were at school, Jack felt like it would be a while before he had the ability to gain control of his own autonomy.

Jack reached out to open the door (it was unlocked) and she pushed him inside the house.

"Coach Bolton!" it was Daniel who spotted him first, dropping a plate on the table before running over to him. The oldest Danforth son (his adopted and technically his oldest grandchild) dropped down to pull him into a hug. The boy hadn't gotten the chance to visit the hospital while Jack had been working. But, he didn't mind because he knew the boy was working towards the game.

Behind him, his younger brother Elijah stood with a broad grin on his face. Elijah Danforth was a freshman and in the high school band. He was the only freshman to make the drumline. His curly black hair was long enough to be pulled into a small ponytail, but there were numerous strands that were falling on either side of his face. There were a set of drumsticks sticking out of his back pocket and Jack was always reminded of Chad, who had always gone from class to class with only a basketball for the majority of his high school career.

"How's the team looking, Daniel?" Jack questioned the boy.

"It's going well. Uncle Troy has us building trust with each other to better serve us at the Championship Game. We've also played a few scrimmages against West High and the JV team," Daniel replied.

"That's good," Jack replied, a few moments before Elijah crossed the space and bent down to hug him as well. Daniel moved to hug Alyson, who had stepped further into the house. The door shut somewhere behind him as Elijah stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed him further into the house. Salem ran off and up the stairs at the sight of the wheelchair that could've easily knocked his tail. Daniel jogged off towards the kitchen. Jack heard him open the back door and shout to the backyard.

Moments later, there was shuffling from the kitchen and Jack heard Alyson gasp.

"Kelsi?" she spoke. Jack glanced up and beamed at the sight of his daughter-in-law practically running into her adopted mother's arms. Alyson held her daughter tightly as Kelsi gripped back nearly as tight. "What are you doing here?" the blonde woman asked. Kelsi pulled back, keeping her mother in her arms as the blonde woman took in the sight of her curly brown hair and a sheepish grin.

"Matty and I thought we would surprise everyone," she remarked with a wide grin. "He's out in the backyard with Chad, but they should be in any minute. They're finishing up a game of basketball." Alyson let out a bright grin and let her daughter go, only for Kelsi to wrap her arms around Jack's neck and bend down to kiss his cheek. Jack reached up with his good hand to pat her head and take the beanie off her head. His daughter-in-law reached out to take it back and succeeded. She looked around. "Where's Lucille?"

"I think she went upstairs to get some homework done," Elijah remarked.

Kelsi nodded her head. "I'm going to go get her." Jack nodded his head as Kelsi rolled him up to the open end of the dining table. Then, Kelsi headed up the stairs.

It didn't take the director/composer too long to find her daughter's room. One of the things that tipped her off was that Salem, the black cat they've had for three years, was sitting outside of the room and peering inside. Plus, it was the old guest bedroom that had been converted to her room after the twins were too old to share the same room. Salem blinked up at her as she bent down to scratch at his head. Then, Kelsi opened the door to find her daughter on the bed with a scrapbook open on the bed in front of her. She didn't glance up as the door creaked open and simply flipped the page.

"Dinner is ready," she remarked.

Lucille simply nodded her head, flipping the page of the scrapbook again as the woman stepped closer to her daughter. Kelsi sat on the edge of the bed and her daughter is quiet for a moment, for a couple heartbeats, before she's opening her mouth and asking Kelsi, "Do you think I should do it?"

"I think you should do it if that's what you want to be doing," Kelsi responded. Lucille let out a shaky sigh as though that wasn't the information that she wanted to hear. She reached out to touch her daughter's hand and her fingers curled to take her mother's fingers in her own. "What is it?" she questioned.

A smile formed on her lips but only briefly before it quickly faded. "I just wish that someone would just say you need to do this. It's so hard trying to figure out if it's something that I actually want to do or if it's something that I'm just too afraid to do."

"I know," Kelsi remarked. "But, being in drama productions was something that you always wanted to do whenever you were going to the drama school and even after you transferred to public schools. You just knew that there was something else that you wanted to do outside of being in the productions."

Lucille smiled softly. "I don't think I want to be a doctor anymore, Mom," she replied.

"That's okay," Kelsi replied. "It doesn't matter what you end up doing. I'll always be proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," Lucille responded, her voice quiet. "If I end up doing the musical… will you come to watch me in it?"

Kelsi nodded her head, taking her daughter's other hand in her own and placing a kiss against the knuckles of her hand. "Even if I had to reveal the secret of our little family to the world, I would make sure that both Matty and I are there to cheer for you from the back row on every night that you perform." Kelsi spotted the tears begin to form in her daughter's eye as she looked away. "You know that, don't you?"

Lucille nodded her head. "Yeah, Mom," she whispered, "I know that."

"Does that help you make your decision?" Kelsi questioned.

"I think so…" she trailed off. "But, I still don't know for sure…"

"It's okay," Kelsi responded. "I've told you the story of how your father and I first started working together on the musical. You know how frightened I was when I finally started having real feelings for your father years later. And, it's going to be scary. But, your father, brother, and I will be there to catch you. I promise."

"And Evelyn," Lucille responded.

"Yes," Kelsi added with a grin on her face. "And, Evelyn. I'm glad you've made a friend who cares so much about you and what you want to do."

"Me too," Lucille responded.

There's a knock and the mother and daughter turned to find Taylor McKessie-Danforth standing in the doorway with Salem rubbing against her bare feet. The Governor of New Mexico stepped into the room and had a bright grin on her face that lit up her features. Her black hair fell to her shoulders in thick curls and she wore a pencil skirt and a red button up. "Come on, you two, it's time for dinner."

"Yes, Aunt Taylor," Lucille responded, moving to stand up.

"And, I'll make sure that Chad and I are there too. If you decide to do the musical, that is," Taylor responded.

Lucille nodded her head. "Thank you, Aunt Taylor." The woman grinned stepping forward to press a kiss against Lucille's cheeks before leaving the room. Kelsi stood up, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders and walking out of the room as Lucille wrapped an arm around her mother's waist. At the base of the stairs, her father was looking at a text message with a confused expression on his face. "Dad," Lucille questioned. "What's wrong?"

"It's Gabriella… uh, Mrs. Castillo," he added upon seeing that Lucille had been the one to speak.

Kelsi blinked, confused. She had known that Gabriella was now a teacher at East High and had a son who was the same age as Lucille, but she didn't know why she was texting Troy. "Is something wrong?" Kelsi questioned.

Troy glanced up at her. "She's just asking me if I could talk to Phillip about the musical tomorrow at some point," he informed the two of them. Lucille nodded her head and moved into the dining room. Kelsi glanced at her husband as he moved to another conversation. He angled his phone so Kelsi could read over his shoulder and she peered down at the message. It was from Sharpay, she realized upon glancing at the name.

 _6:00 pm. Lucille came by my classroom today after school._

 _ **6:02 pm. And? What did she say?**_

 _6:09 pm. She didn't give me a flat out no. But, she didn't give me a yes either._

 _ **6:15 pm. Oh, she might be starting to lean towards doing the musical. I hope she does it.**_

 _ **6:17 pm. How's Ryan?**_

 _6:20 pm. Just trying to make him comfortable. I'm trying to remain optimistic for the kids' sakes. But, I don't know how much longer he's going to last. He's been in a coma for almost six months now._

 _ **6:21 pm. Don't be discouraged. He can easily wake up.**_

 _6:22 pm. I hope so. There's so much that I want to make up for and I don't want Daisy to have permanently lost both of her dads._

 _ **6:24 pm. I understand. Let me know if there's anything that I can do.**_

* * *

 **Alright, there we are.**

 **I hope you guys have enjoyed the chapter! If you want to tell me how I did, please leave a review or a favorite or a follow! If you want to talk to me one-on-one, you can always send me a private message. I hope to see you guys next time for Chapter Seven where we see Phillip's side of things.**


	7. Chapter 7: Phillip Castillo

**Hi! I'm still alive.**

 **I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long for me to write. I had a rough couple of months of the semester. Every time I tried to write this story, I couldn't get far before I had to stop and study so this chapter took a lot longer to write than I had originally thought. But, I hope you guys are looking forward to this chapter!**

 **Starting in two chapters will be the real beginning of the musical. Since the movies focused on the "before" in the first one, I decided to write the plot so it focuses a lot more on making the musical/play itself and their relationships that form with that process. But, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I'll see you in the next one!**

* * *

 **Since it's been so long since I updated the story, here's a guide on who the kids are in relation to characters in the HSM Universe:**

 **Lucille Bolton/Matty Nielsen: children of Troy Bolton and Kelsi Nielsen**

 **Phillip Castillo-Montez: son of Gabriella Montez (has two siblings)**

 **Evan Leverett: son of Sharpay Evans and Peyton Leverett**

 **Daisy Evans-Pierce: adopted daughter of Ryan Evans**

 **Daniel Danforth: son of Chad Danforth and Taylor McKessie**

 **Evelyn Lawrence: not connected**

 **Micah Cross (introduced this chapter): son of Martha Cox and Jason Cross**

 **Shelby Baylor: daughter of Zeke Baylor**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Phillip Castillo

* * *

The sweat was pouring down his forehead, his breath was heavy and he struggled to catch it as the others around him moved to get ready for the school day. But for the life of Phillip Castillo-Montez, he had _no_ idea what the hell they had all just done in baseball practice.

What had they done?

Did he do good?

What had even happened?

The only thing that he could really tell was the fact that his mind had shut off the moment that his feet hit the diamond. His body took him through the motions of a typical practice. His body had thrown the ball when it was supposed to be thrown. His feet took him where he needed to be. His shoulders ached from the motions of a typical practice and his feet were barely inconvenienced from the fact he was standing for nearly an hour and a half.

"Good work, Castillo!" The coach had praised him, but Phillip bit his lip, not wanting to tell his coach that he had spent the past hour in a daze. He hadn't been thinking about the game. And, he knows that should be a good thing because he can do _everything_ without having to think about the actions that are required, without calculating _what_ he should be doing, but there's a sinking feeling in his chest.

Once the coach's typical after-practice speech was over, the boys raced to the showers in the Gym's locker room. Ever since the school's budget cut, all the sports teams had to use the same set of showers. The coaches had banded together to make sure that there weren't large fights over the locker rooms. And, luckily, baseball was the only sport that practice before classes even started.

After a few minutes of waiting, Phillip managed to get the furthest from the door, sliding the curtain closed behind him. He let the hot water wash over him, digging into his skin as he struggled to remember what had happened during practice. Did they just work through possible plays for when the season started to make sure the group of teenagers knew every maneuver necessary to allow them a good and clean game? Or had Coach Flores simply drill them with running and doing laps?

"Castillo," a voice called from the other side of his designated shower stall. He jumped (which could've been incredibly dangerous in a white tiled bathroom), but he quickly identified the voice as Micah Cross, another one of the pitchers. "Come on, it's nearly time for classes to start and you are the last one in the showers."

"It is?" he spoke, his voice sounding more like a question than a statement. He saw shadows from the stall beside him and a pair of sneakers before a phone that was raised above the white plastic of the stalls. On the phone screen was a picture of a golden retriever. And, the time said _7:51 am._ The swear slipped off of Phillip's lips like it was natural and he pivoted to turn the water off. He stepped into the dry part of the two-part stall and quickly went to dry off.

"Don't move too quickly," the boy spoke, his footsteps echoing against the tile. "Don't want you to fall and break your arm. I'll lose one of my star players."

Phillip let out a scoff as he quickly got dressed.

Like Phillip and Evan, Micah and Phillip had always been close since they were born. They sat by each other in kindergarten, swapping crayons and colored pencils and (sometimes) clothes. And, from kindergarten to sixth grade, the three of them had been inseparable. Until they hit middle school. Because of where his family lived, Micah was transferred to a different middle school than Evan and Phillip were. They tried to stay in touch, but that was easier said than done with two different lives in two different schools. Though the family moved back into a different neighborhood which allowed him to be a Wildcat, the three weren't as close as they had once been. But, Phillip liked to believe that the two boys had renewed their friendship with the help of the baseball diamond.

As Phillip slipped on his final article of clothing (his shoes) he pushed open the curtain with his free hand to find Micah Cox-Cross, leaning against the wall of another stall. The high school junior was leaning against the opposing stall, his hands dug in his pockets. He had his father's black hair, spiked up in all directions, and his mother's dancing feet. Today, he was dressed in a gray shirt with a red zip-up jacket. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin on his face, as Phillip stepped out of the shower.

"So, what's going on that you try to drown yourself in the shower?" the boy teased.

"Nothing," Phillip responded. He collected his towels from the stall and moved to dump them into the hamper at the end of the hallway. He moved to the lockers, opening his designated locker quickly. Once the combination was set, it came undone with a simple tug and he opened the locker to fish out his backpack and shoving his practice clothes in his string bag.

"We may not be as close as we once were," Micah responded. He's typing out a message to someone and he hits the send key moments before Phillip is pushing past him and headed towards the cafeteria. "But, I still know that you aren't telling me the whole truth. And, I can tell that something is bothering you."

"Micah," Phillip started. The boy had caught up to him by the time that he was pushing open the door to the hallway. Micah simply stepped through and continued walking by his side. Now that they were side-by-side, he came to the shocking realization that they were both the same height. Had they always been the same height as one another? Or was he just now noticing it? "I don't want to talk about it."

"And, sometimes, that's exactly why you _should_ be talking about it," Micah responded, pushing his own backpack further up on his shoulder. "There's no reason to keep bottling things up inside until they explode all over the place. Trust me, I know, it's the worst because it just sits and it festers and then you just explode all over everything and everyone and that's not good for anyone. Especially not you."

Phillip released a heavy sigh. One that he didn't even realize that he was holding and he stopped walking, right in the middle of the hallway. He heard the whispers of students that walked around him, a remark about how he shouldn't have stopped in the middle of the hallway, and even Micah had taken a couple of steps before realizing that the had stopped. Micah whirled around, retracing his steps before stopping in front of him, a worried expression etched on his face. Phillip let out a shaky breath.

"Aunt Shar wants me to be in the musical… But, I don't think I'm good enough to be in the musical," he admitted. His mother didn't like when he spoke about not being good enough. But, there was something liberating about getting the thought out of his brain and into the space between Micah and Phillip. To his surprise, his childhood friend gave him a look of understanding as though he had known it all along.

"You never know until you try," Micah replied. "Plus, I've heard you sing before. You are an _awesome_ singer and you can only get better."

"I don't think the baseball jock that's also the captain of the scholastic decathlon is suddenly supposed to join the drama club," Phillip remarked.

"Who said that?" Micah asked curiously. Phillip gave him a look of disbelief. "No, I'm being serious and I'm legitimately asking, because I'm so sorry to be the one to inform you this, but the status quo was _meant_ to be broken. Do you honestly think I would be standing here in front of you if everyone was designated to only fit into one box for the entirety of their high school career?"

Phillip gave him a look.

He knew the story. How could he _not_ know the story?

Micah's father was a basketball player who barely scraped by in high school and Micah's mother was the brilliant woman, who aced every test and every homework assignment. Following a wave of students who broke the status quo (and Micah's mother being one of them), she became a cheerleader and a member of the drama club. When their social groups collided, Micah's mother got to know his father and they fell in love in their senior year. After school, they quickly got married and waited until she finished medical school before having Micah.

And, the rest was history.

"Mom loved high school three times more after she started doing dancing as well as everything else on top of that," Micah stated. "Everyone told her that she was crazy. Everyone had told her that her position in the school was tied only to the group that loved to study and do homework. And, she loved studying and doing homework. But, she also loved to dance. Hell, she even made the _cheerleading_ team as well as being on the prom committee and making straight As and two college classes."

"Okay," Phillip replied. "What's your point?"

"My point, dear Phillip is that _you_ ," he spoke, poking Phillip's chest with his finger, "are trying to be what you think everyone else wants you to do. You are thinking about what _he_ wants you to be. _He_ wants you to be an academic scholar with straight As and to be the star of the baseball team. And, you want to be those things is fine, but if you want to be in the musical as well, just _do_ it. Because, what everyone really wants, well those who matter anyway, is for you to be happy with who you are, Phillip Castillo."

Micah wrapped an arm around his shoulder, beginning to pull him back towards their original path towards the cafeteria and patting his shoulder with his other hand.

"Don't limit yourself because of what you believe someone else is thinking. The only opinion that should matter to you is your own."

Phillip smiled. "I missed you, Micah."

"I'm always here for you," Micah informed him. "If you ever need to talk about your father, I'm always here to lend an ear."

"Thanks."

…

"So, what's going on with Phillip?"

Gabriella looked up from the coffee pot in the teacher's lounge to find Troy Bolton, placing a pile of papers into one of the mailboxes. The East High alumni turned teacher stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he crossed the length of the surprisingly spacious teacher's lounge to sit at one of the tables near the coffee pot. He gave her a look, "Come on, Gabriella, you know that I want to know what's going on so I won't say anything wrong that might end up harming his chances of doing the musical."

"I understand," Gabriella replied. She placed her coffee cup on the counter and reached to grab another mug from the cabinet. She poured another cup of coffee and handed it to him, which he took from her hands with a small smile. She took a sip of her own coffee, sitting down on the other end of the round table he had chosen. "Phillip doesn't believe that he's good enough to be in the musical," she admitted, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she admitted the notion to Troy.

Even though she had spent years giving Phillip all the positivity in his own abilities that she could, his mind always seemed to want to please his father. Not Raphael, of course. Gabriella had witnessed one time when Phillip sneezed and Raphael had told him that it was the best sneeze that anyone could ever do. Everything that Phillip did, Raphael was proud of him, unconditionally, because that was just the type of father that Raphael Castillo was. Phillip didn't need to please Raphael.

But, Raphael wasn't the one Phillip felt the need to please.

No, Phillip wanted to please his biological father.

Phillip's biological father was Gabriella's ex-boyfriend, who became as such from the moment that she had informed him of their accidental pregnancy. The only real reason that he came in and out of Phillip's life was because of his own mother, who moved to New Mexico to constantly be around her only grandchild. He refused to pay child support and Gabriella didn't have the money to take him to court (and, he didn't listen to his own mother). Despite all of it, every year like clockwork, he would show up for Phillip's birthday in June, filling Phillip with the promises of being around, only to disappear in the wind a few days later. No calls, no texts, nothing. Gabriella would be there to hold him when her son would question, in a voice that would continue to haunt her for the rest of her life, "Why doesn't Dad want me?".

And, year after year, it would break her heart because there was nothing that she could do to make him feel there. All she could really do was be there for him when he broke. One year, she had to leave for a teacher's conference on the day he had left and she had gotten a call from her other son, saying that Phillip was upset and arguing with Raphael. She had rushed home and found Phillip in their bed, sleeping against Raphael's side having cried himself to sleep.

"Gabriella," Troy's voice brought her back. Gabriella blinked back to reality. Her coworker was sitting on the other side of the table, a look of concern on his face. The chair that was beside her slid away from the table they were sitting at, making a harsh shriek against the white tile, and Troy got up to sit in the chair. It took her a few moments to realize that he had been the one to kick the chair. He reached out to touch her shoulder and she looked up at him, tears pooling at the edge of her eyes. "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

"Phillip's father…" she started.

Troy was confused. "Raphael?"

She shook her head. "Ever since Phillip's fifth Christmas, Raphael has been Phillip's father. But, his biological father is the one I'm talking about," she spoke, pushing back the tears on her cheeks. "A lot of what Phillip has chosen to do has come in some shape from his desire to please his father. He's not around. At all. He's here for about three to five days of the year and then, he's gone."

"Okay," Troy spoke.

"And, Phillip wants to please him. Always has. He started playing baseball to be with Micah… uh, Jason and Martha's son, I think he's on the basketball team." Troy nodded. "But, when his father called and they talked about baseball, he went a little harder in terms of practice, becoming more committed. One time his father praised him about having straight As. Since then, it's all As or nothing."

Troy nodded his head. "Does he realize that he does that?"

"No, I don't think he does," Gabriella shook her head. "To be honest, I didn't see the connection until Raphael pointed it out one day once Phillip was in the sixth grade." She let out a heavy sigh, pushing back the stray tear on her cheek.

For a moment, Troy was silent. Gabriella watched him, the gears turning in his head.

The history teacher was trying to figure out why she would ask him, of all people to talk to him. There were a couple of answers. Phillip would be accustomed to his parents trying to help him find his own way. But, Troy was someone new that hadn't had enough time to form an opinion on what Phillip should, or shouldn't, do in his high school career. He'd give his honest opinion and try to push him in the direction that _Phillip_ would want, not of his own agenda or with knowledge of his father.

"Are you coming to me because you think I can help him make a decision because of what happened in high school? Or because I know what it's like to want to do something that my father originally disapproved of?"

Gabriella glanced over at him. "Both." She let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through her black curls and digging her fingers through the knots. "I don't want him to make another decision based on what his father might want for him to do. And, I thought that if anyone could possibly understand what that might entail…"

"It's me," Troy filled it.

"Yeah," she breathed.

Troy nodded his head. "I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," she breathed, her voice shaky. He smiled at her, patting her shoulder before taking a sip of his coffee.

…

"We did good, didn't we?" Evan whispered, leaning towards him.

Phillip smirked at his best friend.

They had a perfect grade (well, almost perfect grade, Coach Bolton had been adamant about making sure that they do their citations correctly and they had messed up on one of them). It was something of a minor miracle because they hadn't used the entirety of their break to complete and finish the project. They had been too distracted with video games and movies and simply having a good time. But, they had managed to complete the project within two days of the due date. And, then they had helped Daisy refine the essay portion of her project with another student.

As the other students talked about their grades, Evelyn Lawrence, who sat in front of them, pivoted towards them. "Of course, you guys did good," she spoke, a teasing tone in her voice. "The two of you combined are the perfect partnership. I practically had to do the entirety of my project on my own."

"Ouch," Evan remarked. "Did you get a good grade?"

"Of course, I got a good grade," Evelyn spoke, sounding offended that he would even ask a question. It must've been some sort of inside joke because Evan snickered. But, there was still a mischievous look in her eyes as she looked between Phillip and Evan. "I told Mr. Bolton about it and gave him all the proof that I have that he doesn't want to do the project. So, he's giving my partner the score that he did do."

"Good for you," Evan smirked. "It pays to be a friend of the teacher's daughter."

She snickered. "Please, Mr. Bolton would've believed me even if I wasn't friends with Lucille."

"Alright," Mr. Bolton's voice called out. The three of them snapped to attention because of the demanding nature of his voice. He was going to give a homework assignment. "You do have a homework assignment for this weekend. Please read the entirety of Chapter Five in your textbooks and complete numbers one through ten on page 165. It is due _next Friday_ just like it always is. Have a good weekend."

Phillip wrote down the homework assignment on the corner of his paper. He would transfer the information into his agenda at lunch and probably do the assignment over the weekend. As he collected his things and placing his grade haphazardly in his folder, he stood on his feet and moved outside of the class. A few steps ahead of him, Evan and Evelyn were talking about something that had happened in writing club earlier that morning. Phillip followed after them. He was already trying to plan through the rest of the day and the upcoming weekend. But, Mr. Bolton's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Phillip, can I talk to you for a moment?"

As though Evan had been the one who had been talked to, he halted at the door. Because of the nature of their conversation, Evelyn halted as well, looking towards Phillip with a confused glance as Phillip turned towards Mr. Bolton, who stood where he was a few moments before. The three of them were one of the few remaining in the classroom. It had been a deliberate move, he realized. Evan glanced towards him, a silent question brimming through them, before Phillip spoke, "I'll meet you in Chem,"

Evan looked surprised but nodded his head all the same. "See you in Chem," the blonde boy spoke before walking out the door with Evelyn at his side, the two writers exchanging confused glances.

"Go ahead and close the door," Mr. Bolton spoke.

Though his stomach danced anxiously, Phillip did as he was told. His mind spun around, trying to think of what he could've possibly done to elicit a private after-class chat with his history teacher. If it had been about the three of them talking, Evan and Evelyn would've been kept back as well. That being said, the entirety of the classroom had also been talking so it seemed weird that only Phillip was called to stay after.

"Don't worry," Mr. Bolton spoke. Phillip got pulled out of his thoughts to look up at the brunet man, who was stepping closer to him. "You aren't in trouble," he informed. "You have this look on your face so I know that's what you are thinking. But, that isn't what this is about."

Phillip dropped his book bag on the desk. "Then, what is this about?"

"It's about the musical," Mr. Bolton responded. He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned up against one of the desks. "Have you put any more thought into actually doing it?"

Phillip's eyes furrowed. "Uhh, Mr. Bolton, if you don't mind me asking, why are you asking me these questions? You barely know me."

"That is true," Mr. Bolton responded, chuckling. "But, my daughter is the one that you sang with to get the audition in the first place. But, I also talked with your mother earlier about what's been going on in your head and I feel like I might be able to help you figure out what you want to do." He gave Phillip a reassuring grin that lit up his features. "Do you think you are the only one who had to struggle with the expectations of others around you and what you want to do?"

"No," Phillip remarked.

"That's good," he responded. "So, what's going on in your mind?"

"Mr. Bolton, I don't even know you."

"Yes," Mr. Bolton replied. "But, sometimes talking to someone that you don't even know can give you a fresh opinion on something that you didn't even know you needed to have help on." Phillip could see the logic of the situation but kept his mouth shut. "And, if you don't want to talk to me, that's fine. But, I'm always here if you need to talk because as your teacher, I want you to be doing whatever it is that you want to be doing in life."

Phillip nodded his head. "Thank you, Mr. Bolton."

Grabbing his bag from the seat, Phillip tossed his bag over his shoulder. But, he didn't move towards the door and stayed rooted in place. Phillip thought about the possibility of being in the drama club, being in a drama production, and seeing another side of the school that he hadn't seen yet. He bit his lip and Mr. Bolton watched him curiously.

"What if I'm not good enough?" Phillip questioned. "To be in the musical…"

"The beauty about the drama club is that they are willing to help and you'll have lots of times to practice and get better," Mr. Bolton responded. "Being afraid of doing something you want to do will only hold you back and it's not going to protect you. And, then by that point, the only person that you will be hurting will be yourself."

…

As Phillip approached the music room, his lunch tucked under his arm, he heard the sounds of a frustrated groan and awful noise that sounded like Evan slamming his head against the keys of the piano. With a small chuckle, Phillip pulled open the door to find just that.

The blonde haired boy had a stack of papers propped up against the music stand and his bag was deposited by the door. The remains of his lunch were resting on the lunch tray on top of the piano. Evan himself was dressed in a pair of jeans, a black jacket, and matching beanie. But, his frustration about his most recent (and highly anticipated) composition had sent him to the point that his forehead was pressed against at least seven keys and his fingernails dug into the bench.

"She's not here," Evan let out a groan. "Check the auditorium. She likes to go there when she wants to be alone." The blonde boy sat up, turning towards Phillip and straddling the piano seat. "Because we both know that you don't need to talk to me about the musical."

Phillip blinked. "Why don't I need to talk to you? You're my best friend and I want your opinion."

Evan let out a laugh as he motioned Phillip over. Phillip sat down on the bench beside him. Evan reached out to toy with the keys of the piano. "Phillip, I've been your best friend since kindergarten. And, I have supported everything that you ever wanted to do. That isn't going to change now. It's never going to change. So please, stop acting like it's going to."

Phillip unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.

"Plus, it's not like I've been shy about wanting to do the play with you at some point. I mean, even Micah has been in one, have you seen him dance?" Evan teased, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. There was a wolfish grin on his face. "If you end up wanting to do the musical, I have some leverage with the drama teacher. I'll make sure that we get a duet together in some capacity."

Phillip laughed. "Do you really think I can do it?" Evan gave him a confused look, turning his head to the side to look at him. And, Phillip clarified, "The musical. Do you really think I can do the musical?"

"Of course, I think you can," Evan replied. "I know you can."

Phillip felt like the two of them had gotten into a familiar pattern. Phillip loses confidence in himself or his skills or whatever would happen. He would wallow and sulk until Evan would grab him by the shoulder and tell him that he _could_ do the thing that he was trying to think that he couldn't do. It was always the same thing over and over and over again, but Phillip did not know how much longer Evan could take of the same continuous pattern. He might eventually leave when another round of self-doubting happens and he would alone in his own thoughts without someone to drag him out.

Evan's arm wrapped tighter around his neck and pulled him closer against him. "Stop it," he ordered.

"Stop what?" Phillip spoke, trying to play innocent.

"I'm not going anywhere," Evan informed him. "And, there's nothing you can do that you can possibly do that will make me think otherwise." Evan placed a kiss against the temple of his head and Phillip leaned his head on his friend's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," Evan promised. "And, you better believe that because I'm not going to stop telling you it, okay? I'm not like him. You're stuck with me until the end."

"He's just busy," Phillip replied.

Evan shook his head. "It takes two seconds to text a simple 'hey, how are you doing'. I don't think you should be letting him use that excuse on you so much. Especially when it's causing you so much pain." Evan gave him a small smile. "Come on, you have a great support system. I can help you get better at singing than you already are and Micah can help you with the dance moves and I'm sure Lucille will be an excellent partner."

Phillip let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah," he replied, pulling himself from beneath Evan's arm which dropped on the bench behind him. Phillip bit his lip, unsure how to feel. "You said that Daisy was in the auditorium?"

Evan nodded his head. "That's where she would go if she's not here or in the cafeteria."

Phillip nodded his head before standing up. "I'll see you after school, okay?"

"Okay," Evan spoke, a concerned tone in his voice that Phillip registered in his mind. But, he did not respond to the tone directly. He knew that Evan was concerned about him. He knew that everyone was concerned about him. But, he only needed to talk to Daisy. So, without saying anything else, Phillip exited the music room and headed in the direction of the auditorium.

…

The auditorium doors were wide open as they always were. Phillip was expecting to find Daisy in the dark corners of the auditorium, pouring over something on her phone. However, Daisy sat on the edge of the stage, one of her legs hanging off the side and the other tucked under her thigh. Her brown hair was pulled back into a high ponytail on the top of her head. She wore a red dress with her slightly worn converse and a blue jean jacket over her shoulders. She was absorbed on the papers in front of her and unaware that Phillip was approaching until he made a noise to let her know and her head snapped up.

"Hey," she spoke, a nervous smile on her face. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he responded, climbing the steps onto the stage. Once he's stepped on the stage with the bright lights on him, his heart fluttered in his chest. His own footsteps resounded against the floorboards of the stage as he walked towards her. "You make it really difficult to find you. Are you hiding from me?" he teased, sitting down on the edge of the stage.

She let out a giggle and Phillip was certain his heart thumped harder. "Yes, absolutely," she teased. He faked being stabbed in the heart and fell back against the stage in fake despair. Daisy let out a breathless laugh as she watched him pull himself off the stage, "No, I just wanted to study some lines for the musical auditions next week. Aunt Shar is still putting out some final details over what the final script is going to be, but I want to study it to get an idea of the story and how it's all going to work."

Phillip knew that what she told him wasn't the real story. He had known her for half of a semester now, been hanging out with her since Aunt Shar returned from New York with a scared girl by her side. He didn't know the details of what she had been through, only knew the broad strokes of history that she glazed over like nothing. And, he wanted to say something. But, she had never called him out on any of times that he had felt down and didn't want to talk about it or lied about being fine, so he didn't bring it up.

"So, why are you trying to find me?" she questioned, looking over him with an amused, soft smile on her face.

"I just wanted to ask your opinion about something," he replied.

"About?"

"The musical," he responded. For a moment, the two of them are both quiet and the resounding silence is daunting, nearly suffocating, so he adds, "Specifically about me auditioning for it."

Daisy gave him a confused look before returning her gaze to the papers in her lap. "I know that Evan has wanted you to be in one of Aunt Shar's productions for a while now and I know he would want you to do it. He always talking about how he was going to try and get you into it, as you know, but as long as you want to do it, I think you should do whatever you want."

Phillip nodded his head. He already knew that, but he didn't want to tell her that. But, a voice in the back of his head spoke, that wasn't the opinion that he wanted to hear.

"And what do you think?" he questioned.

"Huh?" she responded, her pen in her mouth.

"What you do think about me auditioning?"

For a moment, Daisy was quiet, her gaze focused intensely on the papers in front of her.

And, during the long beats of silence between them, Phillip found that he could only look at her just like he always seemed to be doing when he knew that she wasn't looking. Phillip would be lying if he said that he was unaware of Daisy's feelings for him. And, he returned them tenfold. He wondered if she resented him for being unable to open his mouth and ask her to a movie or on a date or pretty much _anything_ to let her know that he did, in fact, return her feelings. But, every time he felt like he had the courage to do so, to speak up about it even if it's to reaffirm that she did in fact like him, he backed out of like a chicken, jumping through fifteen hoops as to _why_ she wouldn't say yes.

And, Phillip would always end up back where he started, watching her when he knew she wasn't watching him.

"What do you mean?" she questioned, finally turning to look towards him with her wide brown eyes.

He simply repeated his question.

"Why are you asking my opinion, I mean," she responded, turning towards him and folding her legs beneath her. "I mean, the two of us, we only really hang out when Evan's around." _Maybe we should change that,_ he thought to himself. "And, I don't think we're that close. At least, not compared to you and Evan or even you and Micah."

Phillip nodded his head, feeling the urge to run bubble up in his throat. "I just… I really value your opinion and what you think, Daisy," he replied. "I want to hear what your opinion is on me being in the musical." For a moment, she's quiet and looking skeptical about his statement, so he feels the need to add, "It's really important to me, Daisy. Please?"

Her brown eyes went wide and she looked away from him, biting down on her bottom lip. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before she turned back towards him. "I think that it would be a really good thing for you to be in the musical," she spoke. "You'll get to do something great with people that you love like Aunt Shar and Evan." Not including herself seemed deliberate. "And, you'll get to do something out of your comfort zone, which you need to do sometimes and that will help you out in the long run."

Phillip nodded his head.

"But," she whispered, mostly to herself. "I don't know how I feel about you singing with the new girl."

"What?" Phillip questioned without really thinking about it. When he spotted the perplexed and worried look on the girl's face, he realized that he wasn't supposed to hear that bit of information. _Say something_ , his mind hissed at him as Daisy got on her feet and began collecting her things. _Say something._

 _Say how you feel._

"Daisy," he started, his heart thumping in his chest.

"I have to go," she responded, talking quickly and nearly spilling the contents of her bag over on the floor. "I forgot that I need to go see Aunt Shar about a typo in the second act in the love confession scene." But, before Phillip could get a chance to say anything else or ask her to say, she was gone, leaving the theater with the door slamming behind her.

Phillip laid down on the theater and let out a sigh. "You idiot," he spoke only to himself.

…

"Wait," Lucille questioned, pivoting towards Evelyn in the midst of the blue-haired girl's explanation. The latter girl moved to say something but Lucille held up a hand before pointing a finger at Evelyn. " _You're_ Evie?"

Evelyn blinked, looking up at her in surprise before almost immediately throwing her hands in the air once her friend's words have registered. "Why does everyone keep saying that? What does that even mean?"

Lucille didn't explain. She simply laughed, falling back to lay on the floor of the roof. "Oh, that's hilarious. I'm not angry, by the way, if that's what you are worried about. I just think the entire thing is a funny set of circumstances. I mean, what are the chances of something like that happening? You meeting my brother beforehand and fall for him."

"I didn't fall for him," Evelyn rebuffed.

"And, then, I just so happen to come to East High, we become friends," Lucille continued as though she hadn't said anything, laughing. "It's just one twist of fate and it's just amusing. I thought things like that only happened in movies. Cheesy Disney original movies to be exact."

Evelyn snickered.

The door from the school slammed open with a loud bang as the metal door handle slammed against the metal door. Evelyn turned towards the door as Lucille propped herself up on her elbows. Before the figure who caused the disturbance came into view, a brown book bag went flying from the stairs and landing against a flower bed. Then, Evan appeared at the top of the stairs, looking more dramatic than she thought the wallflower was capable of. Behind him, a black-haired boy wearing a red zip-up hoodie and a gray shirt was behind him, looking at his back cautiously.

The presence of the two boys made her briefly self-conscious of the fitting, v-neck long sleeve shirt that she had chosen to wear with her skinny jeans. She had taken off her own hoodie because she and Evelyn were alone.

As he stood on the edge of the room, without his bag and wearing a look that almost seemed manic, Lucille was confused. Why was he up there? Was he looking for Evelyn? Then, the boy stepped towards them with the other boy at his back and boldly announced, "I have a plan!"

"A plan?" The voices of both Evelyn and the boy beside Evan piped up. Their confusion was evident in their tone as they stared at him. But, if Lucille didn't know better, she expected that both of them were willing to follow along even without hearing it. Evelyn piped up, "Like a plan to get better food in the cafeteria or one of those Evan Leverett plans that borderline overstepping your boundaries?"

The boy Lucille hadn't met yet (but seemed familiar) sighed. "Probably the latter."

"Definitely the latter," Evelyn agreed. "That's what the majority of the plans are."

"There's been more than one plan?" Lucille piped up. Everyone looked at her, a mild look of confusion on their faces. For a minute, all they did was stare at her.

Then, Evelyn spoke up.

"Oh!" Evelyn exclaimed. "I'm sorry, sometimes I forget that you haven't been here all year. Evan is known for his plans around various different things. He once committed to giving a teacher a piece of his favorite candy every day to try and brown-nosed the teacher into activating for more funding for the drama department."

The boy gave Evan a light glare. "And, there's the time that he managed to get the basketball game moved a week back because it conflicted with his schedule."

"Hey," Evan replied, pointing his finger towards the boy. "I didn't do that just for me. I did that because it was mid-nine-weeks-testing and we were all stressed the hell out. Are you not going to admit that you did more studying after it got moved?" The boy didn't say anything, which seemed to prove his point because there was a triumphant grin on his face. "Before I tell you all the plan, I need two things to be agreed on."

"Okay?" Evelyn spoke.

"I'm willing to help," the boy spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I would like to know what exactly I'm agreeing to." He walked over to Lucille, sticking out his hand. She eyed his hand curiously. "Micah Cross," he introduced.

"Oh," Lucille spoke, reaching out to take his hand. _He's in her English class_ , she realized with a start, remembering their English teacher's daily shouts of ' _Cross, get inside and stop swapping saliva with your girlfriend!'_ as she ran from their daily lunch spot on the roof. "Lucille Bolton." They shook hands.

"Don't worry," Evan told Micah. "You don't have to commit to anything."

"That's a first," Micah remarked, sitting down on the roof to Lucille's right. "Then, what exactly am I doing up here?"

"It involves Daisy and Phillip."

"Sold."

Evelyn laughed. Lucille glanced towards Evelyn confused, who simply shrugged her shoulders. "So, what do I have to commit to?" Evelyn questioned.

"It's not just you," Evan replied, glancing towards Lucille. The brunette raised her eyebrows as the blonde mastermind flopped onto the roof. He crossed his legs, tucking his feet beneath his knees. "Look, I'm sure I'm not the only person who is sick and tired of the 'will they, won't they' of Phillip and Daisy. It's been going on for six months and they so clearly like each other but Phillip _won't do anything about it_."

"I will admit," Lucille spoke. "It's kind of like he's stuck and doesn't know where to go."

Evan nodded his head. "Anyways, I have a plan, but I need two things. The first thing, if we manage to get past stage one of the plan, I'm going to need some help," he spoke. "Specifically, I need some help altering a three-act play so that the overall plot remains the same but the characters end up with different people. And, I need someone I trust and know their writing style to help me out."

"Writing when I have other priorities is a specialty of mine," Evelyn remarked. "Lucille can proofread and help out too. She's a pretty good writer herself."

Micah glanced towards her, almost impressed, while Evan seemed to be curious about her own writings.

"I'll be happy to help," Lucille replied, crossing her arms across her chest. "What the other thing that we need to commit to?"

Evan glanced towards her. "Have you figured out if you want to do the musical yet?"

"Yes."

"So, are you doing it or not?"

…

Phillip had been surprised and dumbfounded a handful of times today. But, Lucille showing up out of nowhere to practically tackle him into the music room while he was walking with Micah. He had been in the midst of a sentence, talking about the upcoming baseball season, when she collided against his side, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him breathless. However, it also gave her the upper hand to shove him into the music room.

Phillip gained his balance again before nearly stumbling into the drum set that was set up.

"What the hell?" he questioned, practically shouting.

"Sorry," Lucille spoke, without sounding sorry at all. "My brother used to love to fight at one point. Had to learn to adapt once he decided to become a football player."

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" Micah stepped into the room, an expression that showed his shock on his face. Lucille shrugged her shoulders with a small smile on his face and Micah smirked. The boy shut the door behind him but hovered on the edge of the room. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe (but the quick look over he gave Lucille did not escape Phillip's notice).

"What is it?" Phillip questioned.

"You've been avoiding me the past couple of days," Lucille spoke, matter-of-factly. She crossed her arms across her chest. "Not that I blame you, of course. I did have a bit of a strong reaction to the prospect of being in the musical."

Phillip let out a sigh, moving towards the door. "It's okay. I didn't want to do the musical either."

Lucille stepped in his path, nearly causing him to collide into her. He stumbled away from her in an attempt to avoid their collision, cautious in taking a couple of steps. There was a teasing look on her face, but it somehow managed to make her look more serious. "What makes you assume that I don't want to do the musical?"

Phillip looked at her. "I saw the look on your face when Aunt Shar told us to audition for the musical," he whispered. "You looked pained, hurt, and I assumed that you wouldn't want to do something that would only end up hurting you."

"You're right," Lucille spoke. "And, for a bit, I didn't want to do it." She hesitated, biting her bottom lip in a moment of thoughtfulness and questioning. She swallowed before continuing. "Something bad happened to me and I let it rule how I've lived my life ever since. I didn't want the extra stress of being in the school's musical production. I haven't been in one since my freshman year of high school. But, I'm tired of letting fear choose what I do with my life so I decided to do the musical."

Phillip nodded his head. "Well, I don't know how much I'd be useful to you. I'm a rotten singer."

Phillip was certain that Micah would've interrupted, but before the boy could even open his mouth, Lucille was speaking and filling the void of silence, "As a person who has sung with you _for fun_ , I very highly doubt that you are a rotten singer. Little flat _maybe,_ but not awful and there's always room to improve."

"You don't have to say that for my benefit," Phillip responded. "I'm not doing the musical."

"Why?" she questioned.

"Because I'm no good at it," he supplied. He thought about Daisy and his inability to open his mouth and say something about his feelings or about her feelings. He was causing both of them a lot of pain simply because he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. It only seemed to prove his point even further on why he shouldn't do the musical. He was no good at new things.

"Is that the same mentality that's preventing you from asking out Daisy?" Lucille questioned. When Phillip turned to look at her, she raised an eyebrow, curious. It almost felt like a challenge for him to rebuff her statement. But, every person in the room knew that he couldn't.

"How could you?" he started, trailing off.

"I've always been the observant type," she supplied. Her voice was more gentle than it was a moment ago and Phillip was certain that it was completely on purpose. "Look, I get it, Phillip. I'm sure that asking out Daisy would be an absolutely nerve-wracking experience that takes a lot of courage. But I can't help seeing that it's only been hurting you."

Phillip looked away, knowing that she was telling the truth.

Lucille took a step closer to him. "You are a great singer, Phillip," she whispered. "And who knows what you could do if you stop doubting yourself. All you need is the confidence that you can succeed in everything that you try." She paused. "Let me help you."

Phillip bit down on his lip. "I don't know if I can gain the confidence to do something new like being in the musical."

"Yes, you can."

…

The entire car ride home was dead silent.

Even as Evan pulled up to Phillip's house, Daisy gave him a gentle goodbye, giving him no opportunity to speak up about what they had been talking about earlier. Evan gave him a reassuring smile before promising to call him later so they could talk about their English assignment and compare answers. Phillip climbed out of the car, grabbing his half-open backpack as he went (and nearly spilling the contents on the lawn), and headed towards his house. The thoughts, the musical, were still spinning in his head like a hurricane that wanted to flatten an entire town, spinning towards its final destination.

He knew who's opinion he needed to finally settle his thoughts once and for all.

Phillip pushed open the bright red door and shouted, "I'm home!"

From the fact that his sister's bright pink bicycle was missing from the yard, he had presumed correctly that Luisa, his eleven-year-old sister, was not home yet. But, Antonio, his brother, was doing his homework at the coffee table. Phillip guessed that he must've had a test soon as he didn't even look up to acknowledge his brother's presence.

"Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes," his father shouted from in the kitchen.

Phillip dropped his bag off by the stairs before moving towards the kitchen. The kitchen in the Castillo's four-bedroom home was connected to the dining room, which had a round table with bar stools. It was mostly used as his mother's grading station when his father was cooking. And, tonight was no exception as she sat on one of the barstools dressed in leggings and a hoodie with papers spread out over the table. The kitchen itself was small, only really having room for one person cooking in the kitchen, with brown cabinets, a marble-like counter, and mismatched appliances.

"Good evening, sweetie," his mother greeted with a grin. Phillip kissed his mother's cheek as she did the same to him. "How was the study group? Or was it decathlon practice?"

"Both," Phillip replied. He went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water from the shelves. He would have a soda with dinner, he decided. He needed the extra bit of caffeine to get him through the rest of the evening where he would probably be studying. "Decathlon went pretty good. Nathan is drilling everyone to prepare for the match against West High in a couple of weeks. And, the study group went pretty good too. We focused a lot on trig functions and everything. They're all feeling better about the quiz on Friday in Pre-Calc."

"That's good," Raphael spoke, beaming up at him briefly before returning to cooking. "How are you feeling about the quiz?"

"Good, could use a bit of work on learning the graphs for the functions," Phillip admitted.

Raphael nodded his head, glancing up at him briefly to quickly make eye contact. Phillip felt like the move was unnecessary, but he couldn't deny the power behind it. It was a simple and mundane thing to do, but it made Phillip feel like his father was listening to him. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure you are going to do great."

Phillip bit his lip as he leaned against the fridge. He bit down on his lip and thought it over. He tried to piece together what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say everything that he wanted to talk about. But, he felt himself falling short. How would he bring it up? He checked his phone for the millionth time, opened up the messages app, and flicked to the top. At the top, his most recent text was to his biological father with the simple header of _Dad._

His text shined at him, a haunting green, _Can I ask you a question?_

But there was no response.

There wouldn't be a response for at least another week.

Phillip knew the pattern all too well at sixteen years of age.

"What's on your mind, Philly?" Raphael questioned, glancing towards him.

Phillip chuckled to himself, the laugh coming out surprisingly easy for him. There were so many origins to the nickname, but Raphael had called him that for as long as Phillip had known him. He had been the only one to call him that, something that his biological father had been angry about originally. But, he was never around long enough to leave a lasting impression on Phillip's favorite nickname.

Phillip sucked in a breath. "Dad, what do you think about me doing the musical?"

For half a moment, Phillip registered the surprise that popped up on his face. But, the teenager did not know if it was because of the fact that he was asking about the musical or if it was because Phillip was asking for Raphael's opinion. However, the man covered it quickly, so quickly that Phillip was confused if he had even read his expression wrong. Then, his father placed down the spatula and moved the pot to another burner to keep warm. He was moving over to Phillip and taking his face in his hands.

"You can do whatever it is that you set your mind to, Philly," Raphael spoke, his voice even and steady. "And if you want to do the musical, then you should do the musical because that will open up your world to _numerous_ opportunities that I want for you."

Phillip let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding.

"Can I borrow your phone?" Phillip asked suddenly.

Raphael blinked, confused. "What for?"

"I need to talk to Mr. Bolton," he supplied. "I want to ask him a question."

"Of course," Raphael replied, pulling out his phone. Phillip took it, typing in his parents' anniversary with lightning speed and the screen unlocked to show a picture of the family at the latest Christmas gathering at his grandparents' house. Raphael kissed his head as Phillip moved away from him and towards his bedroom. As he passed, he spotted the emotional look on his mother's face before he moved out of the room.

…

The phone rang for several minutes. Each dial tone increased in length and it was making Phillip more anxious to get the call over with. He was certain that the call was going to go to voicemail and that he would need to gather the courage to talk to him later when the last and final dial tone abruptly ended and was filled with a "Yes sir".

"Hi, Mr. Bolton," Phillip started, biting down on his lip. It was another heartbeat before he realized that he should probably identify who he was. His grandmother always said that he sounded like Raphael over the phone. "It's Phillip. Phillip Castillo."

"Oh, yes, Phillip!" Mr. Bolton spoke. "I apologize it took so long to get to the phone. I just got home. I didn't expect to hear from you. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine," Phillip spoke, tucking his legs beneath him. "When we spoke after class, you said that you would always be here to talk if I needed it. And, well, I don't necessarily _need_ it. But, I just wanted to ask you a question."

"Ask away," Mr. Bolton replied.

"How did you feel when you took a major risk? Like something that is completely out of left field than who or what you normally are and behave."

"Well," Mr. Bolton spoke. "I know what you are feeling, that's for sure." Phillip is quiet as Mr. Bolton presumably went to the kitchen to get a glass of water from the sounds that went on in the background. "In my junior year of high school, I was the basketball guy. After going to a ski lodge and being forced to do karaoke, I decided that I might want to try to be in the musical. My friends were against it but eventually came around to support me and be in the musical with me."

Phillip stayed quiet.

"I was scared and terrified of what others would think. Before that point, the only time I sang was in the shower. But, I got up on the stage and I did some karaoke. It led me down the path where I met my wife and made some of the best friends that I could ever ask for. It was scary and it was terrifying and I didn't know if I would do a good job, but the members of the drama club helped me get better. To the point where I ended up double majoring in college."

"My stomach just hurts whenever I think about joining the musical," he spoke as a way of replying.

"I know," Mr. Bolton replied as though he understood. "It's like I told you earlier, that feeling in your stomach is trying to stop you from getting hurt. But, sometimes, that gut feeling is only going to end up hurting you in the long run because it stops you from doing something that you really want to do, something that matters, or something that is important to you."

"Something like asking out the girl you like?" Phillip spoke.

"Yes," Mr. Bolton replied. "Something like that." For another heartbeat, the history teacher is quiet as though he was thinking things over. Then, he's speaking again, "I know that it's a lot of change in such a short span of time. But, you can get past it and find your new normal, Phillip. Auditioning for the musical would be the perfect way for you to confront that gut feeling and show you that it's not always right."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, I think so."

Phillip was quiet again. Then, "Is Lucille there?"

"Yes."

"Can I speak to her?"

"Of course."

There's some mild shuffling on the other end of the phone as the teacher moved around. He vaguely heard the sound of television before the phone was being moved from one hand to the other, shuffling and static noises on the other end of the telephone. Then, Lucille's voice filled his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, Lucille, it's Phillip."

"Hey Phillip," she spoke. "What's going on?"

"If I wanted to do the musical…" he started. "How would we start?"

The brunette didn't say anything on the other end. But, somehow, Phillip knew that she was grinning and that thought managed to make him grin as well.

* * *

 **Review if you enjoyed it and Favorite/Follow if you want to see more!**

 **Next Time: It's time for the big game and the basketball team (and their coach) is nervous! Meanwhile, Phillip and Lucille are stuck in a waiting game after their auditions for the musical.**


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